


Notes To Home

by On_LITERAL_mars



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Eddie and Mike can sing, Eddie sings Conan Gray songs, Eddie writes songs, F/M, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Stanpat is really the only relationship in this book lol, Stay tuned kids this shit gets wild, fluff?, gets angsty the deeper you get, i can do fluff all day long, i warned you kids this is not a love story, might do updates every friday i dont know yet, updates every sunday, very fluffy towards the beginning, you want lovey dovey go somewhere else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 65,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_LITERAL_mars/pseuds/On_LITERAL_mars
Summary: Things start off slow as the school year at The Jean Gray school of higher learning kicks off. As slow as it can for a boarding school that housed super-powered kids. Flu season comes and goes, holidays are had. Yes, things are as normal as they can be. But normal doesn't last long as a group of kids disappear from a field trip. What's happening? Will the Losers be able to figure it out without losing each other along the way? Or will they cave under the pressure and let the darkness consume them? (DISCONTINUED)
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Beverly Marsh, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1: "Just Ben, Not Benjamin."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone here from Tumblr and thank you to those here just because! I've been anticipating this for so long and here it is! Enjoy Beverlys first chapter!

Part 1  
Beverly Marsh Is Not Fire-Girl.  
At the end of her eighth-grade year, Beverly Marsh discovered that she was a mutant. She can't take all the credit, a bitch name Myrtle had helped her figure it out. Beverly loved New York for the most part. It was much better than Tennessee which is where they'd lived before. But the girls here were rowdy. Bev rolled her eyes at something Myrtle had said in class and she took it as an invitation to fight. The fight starts and ends with Bev having no idea what was going on. One minute Myrtle is upright and springing at Bev and the next, she's down for the count. Falling like someone had punched her. But Bev-as a whole cafeteria of kids will tell it-hadn't touched her. After the office visit, her aunt is forced to come clean. Aunt Shelby admits that the Marshes carried the X-gene, the mutant chromosome. 

Her aunt ends up sending her to a mutant summer camp in some shitty town down in Delaware. The only good thing about it had been the drive. They drove through Delaware last year when they were coming from Chattanooga. But camp sucked ass. Most of the kids there hadn't gone willingly so she was surrounded by whiney brats all summer. She walked away with the knowledge that she could inflict physical pain onto anyone just by focusing on them. She thinks about how lame summer '95 was now as she falls in line with other kids getting a tour of The Jean Grey School For Higher Learning. It was beautiful, banners hung from every wall displaying the school colors proudly. It was cool inside considering it was still August, yet a deep warmth buzzed in the air. 

Kids of all colors, shapes, and sizes whizzed past her. It was so much to take in yet she couldn't help but to try and digest it all. "This way, hurry up, c' mon." A girl in front of her gestured. Beverly tried not to stare, but it was hard. The girl was very short and sported cat ears and a tail, when Bev squinted she thinks she might've seen whiskers sprouting from her cheeks. "Sacha." Another voice warned.  
The other kids in line turned to see Storm, a tall black woman who could change the weather. "What's the school motto, Ms. Rivers?" Storm inquired, taking one intimidating step forward. Beverly had seen her on the news, always in her X-Men suit and facing danger head-on. Now, she had a pony tale containing her long white hair and the suit she wore was closer to that of a woman out on a picnic. Catgirl sighed and turned her head lazily to face the other new kids, sporting a wide fake smile. "Patience is key." She looked like she wanted to puke after that statement. 

"Patience is key!" Storm repeated enthusiastically. "Not everyone finds their powers at the same time, nor will everyone learn at the same pace. The journey is important but there is no journey without a destination. So take your time, this tour is gonna take all day." They start in the lobby, the hub in the middle of everything. Kids sat on couches, talking, reading, painting nails. Beverly thanks god that there isn't a school uniform.  
She's having fun dissecting cliques as they form around her. The group continued to walk around the first floor, going from the lobby down the hall to the infirmary. Inside of the Infirmary was a small room that Sacha warned was the ISS room. A boy who was rather short and round raised his hand tentatively. "You, chunky in the back." She teased. A few chuckles rippled throughout the line and some turn to the kid. 

Bev notices his cheeks flare red but he doesn't back down. "Why is the ISS room connected to the infirmary? Wouldn't the bad kids cause a disturbance?" He asked. Sacha glares at him for an awkward second before saying; "Because the vice principal's office is right across the hall...remember when we passed it and I, like, pointed it out and explained that he is the meanest bastard ever?" She jeered him with a stone face. Then she sighed and brushed her hair back, "God, I'm so bitchy today. If I snap at any of you during the next five hours don't take it personally, alright?" She promised, falling back into the tour.

As they walk out the infirmary down the hall towards the cafeteria, Beverly found herself drawn to the shorter boy. When she gets closer to him she realizes he is sorta tall. Still shorter than her but he was up there. "Hey, chunky." She picked, smiling warmly at him. He looks at her for a second, choking on his words as they clawed up his throat. "Chunky huh? I'd tell you my real name but I sorta like that one." He rebates. 

Bev chuckled and started walking beside him. "There are three teams regarding, like, your lunch schedule but it's sort of stupid. B team and C team share lunch because those are the kids in standard classes when the bell rings. Stuff like math, language, gym, chorus. Y'know, that kinda thing. A team kids are the people in advance math or advanced language, team sports, whatever. You'll know when you get your schedules." The group shuffled on. "The lunchroom is pretty big, there's always at least one empty table. You can also bring a blanket and eat outside in the picnic area, its pretty fun. Take advantage of the warm months." Sacha explained. 

The rest of the first floor is a breeze, they explore the library and the study rooms(Small cozy rooms in the library that were specifically for studying). "But then they banned boys and girls from studying together because people kept hooking up. The hooking up didn't stop so they banned two people from studying together, period. It was pretty funny, you guys should've been here in the eighties, it was wild." Sacha explained. The kids following her laugh and they continue. They see the chorus room, the band room, the drama room, and the art room. 

Sacha also leads them down the loudest hall Beverly had ever been down. "This is downtown, I didn't make the nickname but it fits right? Its where all the clubs are so it gets crazy down here. Club sign-ups start next week so be thinking about what nerd shit you want to get wrapped up in. Some of them pay, club pay sucks, word of warning." There was so much going on around her, Beverly had a hard time keeping up. 

After a few more hours of touring the school, they are finally dismissed to their dorms. Chunky tells her that his name is actually Ben which is not short for Benjamin(Bev called him boring and he agreed). He ends up telling her again the next morning when they sit down together to share their first breakfast at school. "Do you like your roommate?" Ben inquired as he mixed his cereal and milk together. Beverly groaned, "You mean the mute?" 

Ben raised an eyebrow at her and she explained herself. When Beverly walked into her dorm yesterday it was clear that someone else was living there. The other bed had had its blankets pulled back and a duffle bag had been discarded on top of it. Beverly claimed the bed closer to the door and began unpacking, hanging up clothes and folding others. About halfway through taping up her posters, she hears the door open and looked up to see who she assumed was her roommate. She was pale and nearly bald with large baby doll eyes. 

The girl was even dressed like a doll in her baby pink dress with ruffled sleeves.

She stares at Bev awkwardly for a while before walking past her. "Uh...hey, I'm Beverly." She tried holding her hand out. "Beverly Marsh." Bev's roommate shakes her head at the outreached hand and went into the bathroom. "She just ignored me and I don't even know her name because she hasn't said anything." She complained, taking a drink of her orange juice. "What about you Benjamin? Any luck with your roomie?" Ben smiles, "Just Ben, not Benjamin." he corrected. "He's fine I guess, he's one of those persuasion guys so we laid down some ground rules. He won't make me do anything I don't want to do and I won't make him forget the entire English language if he pisses me off." Beverly gave him a mischievous smile, the type of smile you give someone when they offer you drugs. "You can make anyone forget their language?" She asked, tentatively. He shrugged.

"I can make anyone forget anything."

Beverly let out a surprised 'oooh' and scoots up in her seat. "You can see my Power Evaluation if you want, it explains it better than I ever could." He offered, lifting up his trapper keeper. Beverly nodded and suggested to show him hers too. Power Evaluations (or P.Es) were exactly what they sounded like. A paragraph or two explaining why they were sent to school and a chart categorizing their mutations. 'Ben M. Hanscom' she reads over things like his birthday and his parents' names(She notes to not bring up his dead dad) and then she comes to his story. "Ben was always a very unnoticeable kid," said his teachers, "That was until he started getting the other kids in trouble by making me remember things differently than how they actually happened." 

Bev continued to read until she reached the end. "Memory manipulation! That's so dope." She complimented him as they switched papers. He shrugged, "Its whatever, your power's cooler anyway." Beverly beamed. "Damn Skippy. Hold your hand up."-"No, no, no, no, not on me!" Ben exclaimed, crossing his arms to protect himself. "I know what you did to those people and their middle fingers." Beverly laughed wiggling her fingers at him. "OoOOOoh I'm here to take your middle fingers OOoooOoh!" She teased.

Ben calls her a twisted tooth fairy to which she agrees. "So who should I use my powers on?" She inquired looking around the crowded cafeteria. "Anyone but him," Ben says pointing to a chubby, curly-haired boy surrounded by about five other kids. "That's Dustin, my roommate. None of those kids he's sitting with either." One of those kids he's sitting with is her roommate, she noted. "Well, what about..." As Beverly and Ben look at all the faces in the cafeteria, a group walks past them. 

The guy has two boys by the ear and is dragging them towards the exit as if he was their mother. Beverly squints her eyes and realizes that the kids getting dragged by their ears were the same person. "What the hell?" she whispered. One of the clones must've heard her because he turned to her and winked, "Hell wishes it was this hot baby." Then he winced because the ear grabber pulled on it harder. "Sh-shut it R-r-Richie." The boy stuttered on.  
He also caught Beverly's gaze and she couldn't help but blush and smile. The boys soon find their way out of the cafeteria and Bev says; "Shame he left, seemed like he would've loved to get his shit rocked." She made a punching motion with her fists. But Ben isn't paying attention because his eyes have wandered onto a group of bullies terrorizing a younger kid. They follow the smaller boy through the breakfast line and then push him down when he reaches the end. "That one," He says clenching his fist.

"Who?" Beverly asked, craning her neck to look where he was looking. "Taller one, mullet, redshirt. Fuck his shit up, Beverly." He cursed. Bev cracked her knuckles and focused on mullet boy. "Gladly..." An itch forms under her skin and travels from her chest to the tips of her fingers, making them tingle. Should I burn him? Maybe fill his lungs up with imaginary water? She loves the way power felt as it left your body, it's cool and refreshing like you just drunk a glass of water on a summer day. Ben watches on in amusement as the bully stops laughing all of a sudden and started grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. His accomplices all huddle around him and express their concern while Beverly and Ben howl with laughter. "God, you are so cool." Ben expressed, smiling ear to ear. Bev took the compliment in strides, "Thanks, Ben. Means a lot coming from you."

Beverly and Ben continued to eat until the bell dismissed them to their different classes.

A teacher better explained what the two teams meant versus what Sacha Rivers(catgirl) had said yesterday. Team A was just the advanced courses one could take and most people took at least one. If you were in an advanced class at 11:30 then you were on Team A and you had lunch first. The second lunch was at 12:00 and those people were team B(regular classes) and C(kids who were in non-academic classes). Beverly had an advanced reading at 11:30 and Ben had an advanced math class at the same time.

They say bye and don't see each other again until the end of the day. "God, it sucks that we don't have any classes together," Ben complained when they caught up with each other in the afternoon. "Tell me about it. What are you doing today? Wanna hang?" She suggests, offering him some gum she got from the vending machine. He declines the gum but agrees to hang. "I just gotta stop by my dorm to put some stuff down." Ben looks at Bev for approval and she nods. 

"I heard some kids talking about the school store. I wanna go see if we can find it." He added. "Exploring sounds fun. I sorta wanna check out that downtown place." Bev agreed. They make their way out to the dorm buildings. Beverly thinks back to yesterday when Sacha explained how the dorms worked. "Sixth through ninth are held here in the west building. Downstairs you have your little reck room and the laundry room. You get to wash your laundry twice a month for free, any other time and you have to pay fifty cents." The group traveled to the second floor.

To the left was the girls' dorms with rows A-J and there were forty dorms on each row (this was mirrored by the boys' side). "Do we have any sixth graders here right now?" A few people raise their hands. "Well, the dorm your in now will probably be the one you stay in for the next three years so get comfy." At the very end of the hall were the bathing quarters. The school attempted to make it private but how private could you make public showers? There were stalls with latches and inside were hooks where you could put your shower caddy while you washed. "Get used to seeing a lot of body parts." Catgirl joked.

"Management over here is a little stricter than at the Clubhouse because most of you are dip-shits. This is the office, here you can put in job applications. They'll explain to you weekly wages at a later date if you're interested so if that's your question; Put your hand down." She continued(and Beverly learns in class that the Clubhouse was the west building where the upperclassmen lived. They also called themselves "Clubhousers" which sounded stupid when you said it out loud). "They take calls and if you want to call your parents it's a dollar or something like that. The main rules are;  
1\. No food or drink in your room  
2\. Get a pass for being in the girls' dormitories if you're a boy, vice versa  
3\. And don't sneak out past curfew."  
Sacha explained giving the kids in front of her serious looks.

"If you get caught they can suspend you, put you on room arrest, ISS, and ban you from going on Town Trips. Moral of the story; don't be idiots and get caught." She winked at them and Beverly decided that she would become that girls' best friend.  
"Wait, wait, wait, wait." The hall monitor("Hall Monitors are the eyes and ears of the dorm managers, getting in trouble with them is just as bad as getting in trouble with the dean.")stopped Beverly and Ben as they tried to enter the boys' dormitory. "What are you doing in here without a pass?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Bev studied his outfit, the name tag on his left breast read 'Bastion'. "I have a dick, Bastion." Beverly grinned. "Wanna see it?" The Asian boys' face suddenly contorts into a horrified grimace. 

"Are you shitting me?" He exclaimed. "Yeah totally." She caved, noticing how Ben exhaled as if he hadn't been breathing. "I forgot that you're supposed to get passes." Bastion rolls his eyes and groans. "Five minutes, Molly Ringwald." He warns. They walk past him and as soon as they do, Ben starts laughing. "Did you see his face!" He raves. Bev chuckled and nodded. 

"He looked like a tomato." She adds, earning more laughs from the boy beside her. Bens room number was B12, She knows this because of the way he mumbled the number under his breath a hundred times until they reached it. Ben twists the knob and Bev is thrown head first into the messiest room she'd ever seen. How had Ben and his roommate been able to fuck up their room this bad in the last twenty-four hours? It was utter chaos. From the stacks and stacks of paper to the figurines thrown about as if they were sprinkles on a half dirty half clean clothes cake. 

In the middle of what looked like the aftermath of a tornado was Bens' roommate on a game boy, completely immersed in his gameplay. "Hey," Ben said to him. "Hey," Dustin said back, not looking up. "Jesus, Benji. Did you grow up in a barn?" She teased. It wasn't actually that bad, but Bev had grown up getting in trouble for so much as even a tube of chapstick being on the floor. Dustin jumps when he hears Beverly speak, looking up at her surprised. 

"Heyyy." He says nervously. "I uh, I'm sorry if I was being rude Benjamin." He apologizes. It's meant towards Ben (who tells him not to worry about it) but Dustin is staring right at Beverly. "You ready to go?" Ben asks once he's one trapper keeper lighter. Bev nods, "I just have a question." She says. "That girl you were sitting with, the bald one? What's the way to her heart?" Beverly asked, putting her hands on her hips. 

Dustin fiddles with his fingers as he thinks. "Uhh...waffles! Yeah! Elle friggin loves Eggos!" He says, stumbling over his words(with a room like this he probably stumbles over everything). "Waffles, huh? Okay! thanks!" Bev says walking out to follow Ben. She hesitated before saying, "And it's just Ben, not Benjamin." They pass Bastion again on their way out of the dorm building. He's busy getting onto a couple of kids so he doesn't notice them. "So what are we looking for again?" She asked as they bounced outside. "School store. The only thing I know is that it's somewhere on the first floor." Ben answered.

Bev suggested checking downtown and Ben agreed. "So where are you from?" She asked as they made their way. "My family is from Louisiana but me and my mom moved to Maine when my dad died."  
"Heavy."

"It's okay." He assured. Watching his feet as they moved ahead of him. They were some kind of off-brand Nike. "What about you?" Bev sighed, reaching up and scratching her neck. "What year we talking? In 1990 I was in Arizona, 1991 I moved in with my aunt and we went back 'n forth between Nevada and California for a while." Ben physically shuddered at the thought. "Must've been hot, I heard homeless people fry eggs on the pavement in Arizona." Beverly hit him and laughed. The two make their way to downtown, finding themselves taking peaks inside every door to see what people had going on. It was never anything serious, it looked like most people were still setting up. 

They got stopped once by a boy who had caught them snooping. "Oh, we're sorry. We were looking for the school store"-"That's around the corner but I didn't stop you guys for that." He's holding a clipboard in one hand and with the other, he reaches out for a handshake. "I'm Landon McDonald. A writer and editor for the newspaper." Beverly and Ben share a look. "There's a newspaper?" She asked, shaking his hand. Ben does the same. "Yep! It's mostly informative about dates for different events and changes coming to the school. You can also pay to put in ad in if you're trying to make some freelance cash. The subscription is two dollars a week, so not that expensive." 

Landon asked if he could secure the both of them for a subscription and they agreed. Beverly and Ben were new to the school and wanted to experience everything. So they filled out the form and were told they would have newspapers delivered to their door every week from then on. "It's probably gonna suck isn't it?" She asked him, referring to the newspaper. He nodded, "Most likely, yeah." They looked at each other deadpan before giggling.


	2. Chapter 2: "Blood will start shooting from my nose and I'll kill you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bev goes back to her dorm, Eleven is in bed asleep with the lamp on. She thought about turning it off but then stopped herself, not wanting Elle to throw another tantrum(she'd say something like "oh, leave it on or else blood will start shooting from my nose and I'll kill you"). Instead, she groaned and pulled the covers over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters get longer the deeper the story gets i promise! Try to tough these 3000-worders out, i'm sorry guys! lol.

Jane hopper is a bitch.  
Fun fact about Beverly's roommate, she finally learned her name. Was it because by the grace of god Eleven had wanted to talk to her? Of course not, It was because last Wednesday Beverly finished her test first and was dismissed twenty minutes early as a reward. She took advantage of the empty room and found herself looking for Elles P.E. It was all in good nature, Elle wouldn't so much as look at her and Bev needed to know that she wasn't roomed with an ax murderer. Ben asked her why she thought that was a good idea.

"Seemed like a good choice at the time." Beverly shrugged. "and now at least I know what things to avoid"-Like her brain dead mom? Or how she was a lab rat?-"And what things are cool." Beverly did feel bad about snooping around in Elle's stuff but it isn't like she miraculously started speaking to Bev afterward. It was still awkward looks and working around each other and now Bev knew it wasn't because Jane hated her, it was because Jane grew up in a lab where she was a test subject, not a child. Strike one came when Marsh found herself dipping nervous toes in a cold Jane hopper river. "Hey, Jane!" Bev had greeted fondly that Saturday morning. Eleven had just looked up at her with a confused look.

It was eleven thirty-something and Elle was melted into her bed, just hardly opening her eyes to join the rest of the world. Beverly however, was up, wearing her favorite blouse, and ready to start her day. "Early," Elle spoke softly. "Yeah, early. Me and my friend were gonna go and see if the school store has been opened yet. I was gonna see if you wanted to come." The first time Ben and Beverly went, the school store had been more boxes than room. But Ben had drama as his connection in the afternoon and on Friday he had noticed the store seemed more put together.

"It's early..." Beverly's roommate whines, pulling the blue blanket over her eyes. "C' mon Jane! I heard their serving waffles for breakfast this morning"-"Stop." Elle cut in. "Stop what?" Bev asked, leaning forward on her toes and then back again. Half-awake, Elle sat up, facing her roommate as she spoke. "I'm Eleven. I'm Elle." The air is thick around the two girls. "I'm not Jane." Eleven sighed and stood up. Passing Beverly without a second glance, grabbing her shower caddy, and going to the showers.

As Beverly plopped back down on her bed, she couldn't help but feel ultra shitty. She goes over to the mirror and stares at herself for a moment. "If at first, you don't succeed; try, try, try again." She comforted herself. The day starts off iffy but after breakfast, Beverly and Ben still go to the school store. Inside, there was a section dedicated schoolhouse commodities(all the mechanical pencils a girl could want). There was also an art aisle, lined with paints and colored pencils and canvases.

Books and comics neighbored each other on shelves and next to the mini book store was an assortment of hygiene products. "Look at this!" Bev exclaimed, holding up a thing of nail polish. "What do you think about baby blue, Benji?" He gave her a thumbs up. "It'll bring out the blue in your eyes." He thinks she didn't hear the last part because she had danced away from the nail polish to the makeup. The makeup selection looked like the school had bought out the drugstores supply but a tube of sparkly lipgloss did catch her attention so she picked that up too. Ben ended up buying himself a book and while he checked out, Bev slithered her hand into her pocket.

The two make their way back to the lounge area in the west dorm building. "Hey, what's your book about?" She asked him. Ben takes a moment to reread the back before giving his answer. "It's about this kid who gets stranded on an island with a horse and then when they get rescued, he makes the horse race." He informed her. His eyes sparkle as he describes more in detail about the book and Beverly listened fondly. "Why didn't you get that nail polish?" He asked.

Bev raised her eyebrows at him. "You mean..." She pulled the stolen nail polish out of her pocket. "This nail polish?" The smile on Beverly's face grew as Ben let out a gasp. "You stole that!?" He said shrilly. Beverly shrugged, "Not so much stealing. It's more like the store giving me an early birthday present." A line she'd heard her Aunt use a million times. Ben suddenly didn't look so sure so she added; "Plus, it'll bring out the blue in my eyes right?" Ben blushes under her gaze and nods. "If you want something but can't pay for it, tell me okay? I don't want you to get in trouble." It's so sweet and so sincere that it makes Beverly want to drop the topic altogether.

She nods anyway and stuffs the polish back in her pocket. Ben was so sweet, so, so sweet and for some reason, the sugar tasted more like poison on her tongue. As if reading Elevens P.E had set off an imaginary domino effect, the second strike came that night. Beverly had just come back from the showers and was changing into her nightclothes when her roommate came in and walked into the bathroom. There was only one thing that really peeved Bev about Elle. It was how she just 'hung out' in the bathroom and how she didn't close the door. Even late at night when she was taking a shit and Bev had to hear every 'plunk' while trying to go to sleep.

Bev takes her dirty clothes and puts them in her laundry basket. Then she takes the basket and pushes it against the bathroom door, closing it in the process. She knew Eleven probably wasn't gonna react positively but at the time. the only thing she was thinking about was how uncomfortable the sound of someone else peeing made her. The door slammed opened and out walked a very upset girl. Her big eyes were now clouded over with anger and her cheeks were red. "Keep the door open." She warned behind clenched teeth. Her voice was shrilled.

Then Bev's clothes basket started to hover in mid-air, flying violently into the small bathroom and going everywhere. "Hey!" Bev shouted, springing towards her roommate. "What the fuck..." Her clothes had been flung everywhere. Beverly felt a bonfire light in her chest and the sparks from it burn their way up to Beverly's mouth until she's spouting profanity after profanity. She turned to face Elle who was wiping away a bloodstream under her nose. "Are you insane?" Bev exasperated, clenching her fists.

Eleven starts to walk away and when Beverly tries to follow her("Oh no, you aren't leaving now.")she finds herself sliding backward till she's forced up against a wall. Bev tries to move but it was like something heavy was pushed against her chest. "Stop fucking-ughhhh!" Beverly focuses on Elle intensely. Eleven flinched and grabbed her cheek, she stops and throws a look over her shoulder. On her cheek was a bold purple bruise and in her eyes was defiance. She stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her. When she's gone, the weight on Beverly's chest relaxed and she falls. Sitting on the floor for a moment registering what just happened.

She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath, stumbling to her feet. Beverly rounds her clothes back up into the basket. It took her a long time because some of the clothes were soaked and she had to ring them out in the sink (It was gross). When she was done, Beverly hauled the basket downstairs to the laundry room. This would be her second time there which meant next time she would have to pay. That was fine, except aunt Shelby only sent her twenty dollars a week and she was down to ten already.

She checks in with the guy at the counter and starts her wash. Beverly stood by her basket, tapping her foot on the tile floor. Trying to get rid of all the excess adrenaline. A boy in a green polo shirt walks past her chewing gum and damnit gum sounded amazing right now. "Hey," Bev called after him. He stops and spares a glance, looking from her dirt-smudged boots to her thick orange hair. "Hey," He greets. "I'm Beverly." She said, reaching her hand out towards him. He looks at it for a moment before taking it, "Stan," his grip is tight. "Nice grip, Stan," Bev observed.

"Can I get some gum?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly opened pack of juicy fruit. He hands her one, "Thanks." She says. "No problem," Stan assured as he walked off. Bev's foot stops tapping and she relaxes, thinking of that dumb ski commercial that she and her aunt always laugh at. When Bev goes back to her dorm, Eleven is in bed asleep with the lamp on. She thought about turning it off but then stopped herself, not wanting Elle to throw another tantrum(she'd say something like "oh, leave it on or else blood will start shooting from my nose and I'll kill you"). Instead, she groaned and pulled the covers over her face.  
\---  
Sundays were town days And town days were fun(or so she heard). Her and Ben were in the breakfast line, rambling on about how fun today was gonna be. "Town days are pretty chill. Don't get banned from going, it'll be your biggest regret, I promise." Sacha had warned them almost two weeks ago. "It's a school-wide, once a month trip into the big apple. We split into groups and go to museums, plays, malls."

It took all morning, from eight-thirty to eleven before kids were loaded onto buses and then sent into town. Ben had requested to be in a group with Beverly and that's why the two fourteen-year-olds were cheek to cheek in the very back of the bus. Beverly suggested they talk about the wildest things they've ever done. Ben had a scar on his stomach from where he'd tried to pet a werewolf. "Yeah right." Bev rolled her eyes. "Well, that's what I thought it was at the time. It was just a pit bull but I was like, seven, give me a break." They laugh and then it's Bevs turn."If it's a crime do I get extra wild points?" She asked seriously. Ben shook his head, "No way. You get all of them." Beverly's happy smile was suddenly mischievous and Ben seemed a little nervous. "Well, when me and my aunt lived in Wyoming, we stole a car." Bens' face twisted. "You what!?" Bev laughed at his face. She would've continued but the bus began to slow. Wherever they were going, they were there now.

They go to an event where a pyrokinetic prisoner volunteered to preach to them about how being a mutant doesn't mean that you are 'immune to life'. "Mutant and man are separated by a gene." His speech began. He was clad in a gray jumpsuit, the cuffs he wore were specifically designed to suppress powers. Beverly always shivered when she looked at those things, they looked heavy. "And we are linked by our stupidity." He tells them that when he turned twenty years old, his friends took him to a club on a dicey side of town. He continues to say that he had been Twenty for seventeen hours when he did his first line of cocaine. Twenty for three days when he snorted his tenth line. "Cocaine." He explained, holding up his arms to show off his shackles.

"Was more restricting than even these." His name was Robert Gray, Bev will learn in a few weeks when the newspaper informs her that his death sentence had been carried out. Robert Gray, in a cocaine-induced state, burned down his apartment building. Killing ten families, six dogs, two house cats, and one turtle. She feels goosebumps on her skin and that's not just because Ben is touching her arm in the middle of the gas station aisle. It was after the event and now groups were being chaperoned to different stores. The gas station reminded Beverly of the summer she spent so she had pulled Ben inside with her. "Bev, are you gonna get that?" He asked kindly, motioning at the pack of juicy fruit in her freckled hands.

"hmm? Oh! Yeah, I think so. I'm sorry that I spaced out...I was just thinking." She assured. Bens hand didn't move, however. "Do you need help paying for it?" His voice is gentle and quiet. Beverly realized why he was asking that and felt blood rush to her cheeks. "I have money." She tried to keep her voice steady but Ben flinches anyway. Her hands feel cold. "Oh...okay! That's fine." He says smiling. He turns to go and check out and Bev stops him, taking a deep breath she says; "Actually...there is another thing I need to get." He turns to her and the expression on his face is enough to make the gum in her back pocket burn a hole through her soul.  
\---  
"Yo heads up." Beverly beamed, throwing something at Elle from the door. She plopped on her bed, looking on excitedly as the box hovered in mid-air. Elle looked startled before realizing what she had just caught. "Eggos." She says, standing up and grabbing the box from the air. "Yeah, I thought it might be a nice peace treaty." Beverly can't help but smile at the expression on Elevens' face. "Do you know what a treaty is?" She continued. Elle looks at her with question in her eyes, "tree-tea?" Beverly shook her head and patted the place beside her for Elle to sit. The girl does so and once she and Elle are side to side, she explains. "A treaty is like an apology and a promise wrapped up in one. I'm sorry for not keeping the door open and I promise to never do it again...now your turn." Elle furrows her eyebrows and focuses hard on the box of Eggos in her lap. "Sorry for..." She searched for the words. "Throwing your clothes in the toilet." The two girls looked at each other and giggled. "I promise to not do it again." Bev nods and the two shake hands. It was nice for a while, they had their moment. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long.

Beverly had only seen the Dean once. It was the first Friday of the school year and there was an assembly held for the 'Freshmen' in the gym. It was actually advertised as a 'pep rally' but since none of the sports team had been put together yet, nor were there any cheerleaders, they had some twelfth grader sing the star-spangled banner and then Dr. Mcoy himself came out on stage in his expensive suit and gave a speech. It was nice, and despite Sacha River's warning, he seemed nice. Now she was in his office and beside her is Elle who was staring at the floor as if she were having a conversation with it. Random dorm searches, cat girl didn't mention that at all during the tour. ("Actually she did." Ben would tell her later. "You just weren't listening.") At six am this morning Beverly and Eleven were awoken by an alarm clock-hard knock at the door combination.

"Open up! Dorm checks, c' mon hurry up!" The knocking got louder and faster and without much thought, Beverly got up and opened the door. In her face was Myra House, the female counterpart of Bastion Skies who was the Head Monitor for the boy's dorm. She had a clipboard in her hand and the look on her face is annoyed. "You coming out here in your underwear?" Myra questioned, grimacing at the half-naked girl in front of her. Beverly scratched her eye with the palm of her hand, "Coming out? what's happening?" Myra gave Beverly an expectant look before groaning and pushing the clipboard in her face. "Dorm checks," Myra repeats a little louder this time. "Wrap your blanket around your waist and stand here." Myra's neck stretches like a rubber band till her head is completely in the dorm. "You too, sleeping beauty. Get up." Beverly yawns and ducks under Myra's neck, doing what she had been told.

Row A was barely alive this morning, sleepy girls slumped against the walls talking to each other drowsily. Eleven had come out, looking at Bev with wide eyes. "Beverly," Elle said quietly, pulling the sleeve on Bev's t-shirt. "You bought food. We have food!" She warned, whisper shouting. It didn't register right away, everything was still a little fuzzy. She finally gets it when Myra, several minutes later, comes out holding the unopened packet of eggos.

She raises an eyebrow at Bev and Elle and then sighs, marking something on the clipboard. At lunch, Ben tells her she's screwed and In the afternoon(this was after getting laughed at in class when her math teacher called on her to answer a question and she got it wrong)she waits in the lobby of the main building, other kids buzzed around her. Beverly Marsh and Jane Hopper were among the forty-four names called that afternoon. Beverly watches confused as more and more people flood into step around her and Eleven. "Elle?" She asked her roommate. "What's happening?" Bev continued. Eleven gave her answer to the Nike's that tread in front of her; "We had food." If Beverly had been listening instead of staring at the ceiling, she would have known that random dorm checks happened twice a month and were mandatory.

If you got caught with food(see Bev Marsh) contraband or anything else not allowed in school—you were ushered to the main lobby and depending on the severity of your crime, punished. It takes all day, Beverly finds this out when the blue sky bleeds orange and suddenly she's finished with her math homework because YES Barry from math(an idiot with glasses as thick his scull), she DID know what 2+2 equals. Someone walks past her, she doesn't see who it is but after they walk away, there's a piece of paper in front of her. It doesn't say anything on the front but after hesitating, she opens it. Woah, what the fuck?

You want to make two hundred dollars?  
If yes, refold the paper and throw it away. You'll get instructions soon.  
If no, rip it in half and throw it away.  
You'll be a bitch.

Woah, she thinks as she chews on her juicy fruit gum, what the fuck? She would've laughed out loud but then she catches a glimpse of Elle's anxious face and it drowns the laugh out. She weighs her options for a moment. Two hundred dollars was a lot of money, twenty dollars a week was not. She should just see what the job is, maybe it's legit? Then again, maybe it isn't legit but still something simple and easy? Yeah, okay, that makes sense, she tells herself, she'll just see what they're asking her to do and decide then.

She folds the paper and throws it away, watching as people walk past it periodically. She tries to focus on them individually, looking to see if one of them looks into the trash can a little too long. A glance maybe? But there's nothing, just kids minding their own business and walking innocently past the trash can. She thinks for a moment that she's been punked and it makes her blush. God, she was naive. Beverly watches enviously as pairs entered and exited the office, the hours wind down and soon there are ten people left and it's night outside.

Someone had fallen asleep, Bev was envious of that person too. When she and Elle finally get called in, the dean is agitated from dealing with smart-mouthed teens all afternoon and is reading the same paper that Myra had marked earlier that day. "Two young, smart and promising young ladies in my office for Eggos. In trouble for waffles, that's your very first impression on me girls." He deadpans, raising an eyebrow at them from behind their glasses. "Take a seat, I'm sure you're both wanting to go back to your dorm." Dr. Mcoy says, pointing towards the seats in front of his desk. Beverly shifts uncomfortably in her seat...it was warm.

"What would you have wanted it to be if you could start over? Your first impression on me?" He asks. Eleven doesn't answer, she doesn't look like she has the capacity to. "Me breaking a bad guys arm." Bev says. The dean nods, "And you think the violence would make me more proud of you than I am now?" Beverly isn't sure if it's a test or not. What is she supposed to say to that? Why didn't he just get it over with already? He's looking at her and to escape his gaze, she finds herself looking at the stack of gold bars on his dresser.

Wow, are those real?

"Ms. Marsh?" He questioned. "Yes!" She jumped. "Umm...I don't know." She says shrugging. The adult sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What will make me proud is when you're proud of yourself, find something you love and put your all into it. If breaking bad guy arms makes you proud of yourself, then yes, it would have been the perfect first impression, Ms. Marsh." It's silent for a while before Dr.Mcoy hands Beverly her Document of Punishment. "You're free to go." Beverly mocks his voice now as she relayed the events of her afternoon to Ben at lunch the next day. "God I was so pissed off. I got banned from town for two months PLUS detention on Saturday." She vents, stabbing her chicken biscuit with a fork. "What about Eleven? How is she?" Ben asked, his expression is calm and understanding. If Beverly would slow down to look at the world, she would see that he's wearing a sweater in the middle of August.

She wouldn't notice, though, she never would. Beverly Marsh was too fast and too fiery to notice anything without charring it first. "Oh no! Don't get me started!" Beverly laughed, baby blue fingers tapping on the lunch table irritably. "She's back to ignoring me and she locked me out last night. She's lucky I had a Bobby pin on me or I would've had to go and get a dorm manager. I was just trying to be nice! But now she's gonna have to spend her Saturday doing book work and she's acting like it's all my fault..." Beverly rants and Ben listens, and when breakfast ends, the only thing that's red and angry is her hair and they split ways. The only thing the day was good for was the math problem she got right in class and Ben, whose chubby cheeks and sweet words were enough to make Bev sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! How's your sunday going? Well i hope, lol! What was your favorite part this chapter? Writing-wise mine was Beverly giving Elle the eggos.


	3. Chapter 3: "You ninth-graders make me want to take a fucking toaster bath."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you have any notebook paper?" Bev asked. It's quiet for what feels like forever, then realization crosses Myra's face and she says; "Does it look like I have fucking notebook paper? I mean seriously, I have my arm up this doors asshole and you're asking me for notebook paper? What the hell! You ninth-graders make me want to take a fucking toaster bath." She spats. "And I say that as a ninth-grader. Jesus, yes I have notebook paper, go wait in the office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday lol. Time got away from me. Enjoy! Also, note; This is not Myra Kaspbrak. I just like the name, different characters.

On Tuesday morning, Beverly Marsh wakes up at Seven-am, one nightstand apart from Jane "Eleven" Hopper who wakes up at the same time. They get dressed around each other, Beverly in her black t-shirt dress and Elle in sweatpants and a men's flannel. While Elle pees, Beverly uses her acne wash. On her way out, she notices the newspaper under her feet. She would never know how hard the newspaper kids worked on it, nor would she appreciate it. Bev reads the date, skims over something about working in the infirmary—ew—and then throws it away. In the Clubhouse, while Beverly Marsh ruffles a half-sleep Ben Hanscom's hair, Barbara Holland throws up in her toilet. She is the first person at school to get sick this week but she won't be the last, unfortunately. 

In homeroom, a kid named Richie gets in trouble for passing notes with a girl. Beverly had been answering the question the girls in class had asked her. It wasn't about math(Bev had lived in Hollywood for three months when she was twelve and someone had asked her what it was like)and if it hadn't been for Ms. Amofah despising Richie, she probably would've gotten on to them instead. "Tozier." Ms. Amofah boomed. It was a hobby of hers to embarrass kids, singling them out at every chance she was given. "What's so funny?" She picked, scowling. Two or three kids turned their heads to look at him, Bev admits she was one of them. He was cute. In an awkward, rabbity kind of way."Oh nothing, Miss, just passing notes with the enemy." He spoke, his voice was in that awkward stage of constant breaking and squeaking. Bens voice sounded the same and upon thinking of her friend, she can feel the ghost of his fingers on her arm.

"The enemy?" The teacher repeats skeptically. "The opposite sex, yes Ms. Amofah." A few giggles go around the classroom. Now, about three weeks into school, people were becoming used to the motormouth surrounded by a hundred-twenty pounds of kid. A wiry smile possesses the adult's features. "Why don't you come and read the note out loud then Mr. Tozier," She proposed. It sounds like a question but it's a demand and Richie knows this. 

Orange seemed to be his favorite color, which came as no surprise. Orange was a loud color and Richie Tozier was a loud person, proved by how loud he read the note in front of the class. "'Do you know the answer to number fifteen?' I write down 'yes but I ain't tellin' and then she called me a virgin which, first off, is just rude!" He read off the notebook paper, his leg bouncing wildly. Bev notices another thing about Tozier, his free hand relaxed beside him was in a steady, repeating cycle. Constantly stretching in, stretching out, in and out, in and out. The teacher stood beside him grimacing, a permanent sour look rested against her pointed features. "As you know, there's a no-note policy in my classroom, Richard. You can spend your afternoon cleaning my classroom or you can tell me who passed the note and only be in here during your free period." Teachers called it a free period but the students called it what it was, a smoke break. 

While A team ate, B team had thirty minutes to do whatever they wanted, vice versa. This could be a real lifesaver if your free period was during a class you had a test in on that day. Richie thought it over for a second--a literal second--before shaking his head. "I ain't no snitch. Sorry, Amofah." 

"Excuse you, young man. That's Ms. Amofah." 

"It'd be 'Mrs' if you weren't such a fuckin"-"Excuse me!?" Ms. Amofah shouted. The noise loud enough to turn every head. Richie himself looks pale, staring down at his shoes like the beat-up converses were the most interesting thing ever. "What did you just say?" Her eyes are wide and angry. Beverly lets out a dry chuckle. She hadn't meant too, but the look on Ms. Amofahs face was too much. Her face was comparable to that of a very fat pug, ones whose neck rolls were actually just a turtleneck that went(obnoxiously)to their chin. Who wore turtle knecks in august anyway? Amofahs head snapped in Beverly's direction and the silence is so thick and heavy that it makes Beverly want to sink down into her desk and drown.

"You find this funny, Ms. Marsh?" She demanded, crossing her arms. "No, ma'am," Beverly said eagerly, shaking her head. "I wonder if you'll be snickering when you have detention on Saturday." Oh no, "I already have detention on Saturday!" She tried, feeling heat rush to her face. She could feel the eyes of all the other mutants on her. "Oh yeah? Well, it looks like your weekend is gonna be fun!" She sneered. "Go back to your seat Richard, we'll talk after class." And talk they did because as homeroom ended Ms. Amofah stopped Bev at the door and laid down their punishments.

Beverly and Richie have detention on Sunday from twelve am till dinner(seven pm). Great, detention two days in a row, that's all Beverly wanted in life. "Are you gonna be mad at me Marsh?" Richie teases as they walked out into the hall. Beverly just rolls her eyes at him, "You really are a trash mouth, aren't you?" Her next class is two halls down so she says her goodbye and heads off. Beverly asks Ben what he's doing after school at lunch. "I have to wash my laundry, so unless you want to see me do that..." He tells her, sweeping long, blonde bangs out of his face. "Ben, I would rather spend my day inside the washing machine then see that bald bitch." She joked. "Yeah I get that," Ben agreed. "Having a roommate isn't as fun as I thought it would be."

"Why in the hell would you think it'd be fun?"

"Only child syndrome." He admits. "I always wanted a brother or something. Dustin is more like an annoying cousin." Beverly lets out a loud 'Pfft' which turned into laughing. "You know what Elle is like? She's like your aunts new baby who cries all the time!" Ben is staring at her, amused. "And now she wants you to babysit without pay because 'we're family' and all the baby does is drink apple juice and throw tantrums." He's in hysterics by this point, face red with laughter. "Wait..so if Elle is the testy toddler and Dustin is the annoying cousin...what does that make me?" The blond asked, leaning forward in his seat. Beverly thought hard for a moment. Ben(not Benjamin)was her best friend, really her only friend. If we're talking about family relations your first best friends are usually your siblings, right?

"Oh Benji boy, you're like a brother to me."  
\---  
"God, I hate writing. Please tell me you have Mr. Macnamara's class?" Beverly questioned. They were in the Laundry Matt and Bev had moved the empty chair beside her to use as a footstool. Now, she balanced her writing homework on her knees while Ben sat beside her gazing mindlessly at the spin of the washing machine. "Ben? Earth to Ben! Macnamara's class, acrostic poem, I suck. Help." She urged, bumping him with her shoulder. This seemed to knock him out of it as he finally answered her question. "Um...No. I have Mrs. James for writing but I could still help. I'm really good in that class." He boasted. 

"Is there a specific word you have to use?". Beverly nods, showing him her paper. So far all she has on her paper is her name at the top, the date, and 'February' written diagonally. "We're writing poems to our 'end of year' selves. It's dumb right?" Beverly asked, handing him the piece of notebook paper. "Why is it dumb?" Ben asked her, raising an eyebrow at Beverly's handwriting. It was like she switched in and out of cursive with each letter.

Bev frowns at Bens question, "It just is, I don't know." She shrugged. There was a voice nagging at the back of her head, though. Why did she think this was so dumb? "Is February, like, your birth month?" He questioned. Beverly nods. "Okay well, why don't we start off with something like...Feather soft hair." He thinks aloud. "Feather soft hair!?" Beverly repeats amused. "That's mighty assumptions of you, Benji." Bens face turns bright red as he looks up at her. 

"Well...is it soft?" He inquired. Beverly hesitates at first before taking Bens' hand in her own, lifting it up and running his fingers through her hair. Ben looks far away like his mind took a vacation without packing the rest of himself up first. "Is it?" She asked, letting go of his hand. "Hella," Ben whispered, and for some reason the look he was giving her made her cheeks feel hot. She shook it off though because c' mon? 

It was Ben! She just called him her brother...she couldn't think of him like that. "So whats next?" Beverly asked, shaking her head. The sudden movement seemed to knock Ben back into reality too. "Make me sound smart or something." She adds. "You don't need me to make you sound smart, Beverly Marsh." He tells her, scribbling something down.

"Ever so bright." Bev is mesmerized as Ben pulls words out of the air, courting them together like the poem was actually a Ballet. "You think I'm brave?" Beverly says, reading over his shoulder. Ben shrugs, "You're braver than me." He has to leave for a second to move his load into the dryer. While he's gone, Beverly reads what he has written so far.

𝐹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇  
𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉  
𝐵𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒, 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹  
𝑅𝑒𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

"Rebellious and right, damn straight." She says laughing to herself. At the same time a familiar face walks past her, she can tell it's him from his khaki shorts and baby green polo shirt. "Hey, Stan!" She called after him. He stops walking to give her his attention, giving her a look that mirrored the way she looked at aunt Caren when that bitch asked her to babysit for free. She pulled the gum packet out of her pocket, it was the one that she had gotten over the weekend, specifically saving the last piece for when she saw her gum buddy.

"In a mood for some juicy fruit?" She jokes, offering it to him. He grimaces at the packet before slowly taking it, "You know if you're careful, you could just unfold it at the ends so that you don't destroy the packet." he tells her, putting the piece of gum in his mouth. "I will make sure to remember that, specifically for you Stanny boy." Although Stan dressed more like an adult than a boy. Pre-teens bounced around her in their baggy pants and oversized t-shirts, every time she walked into a room it was like opening a skittles packet. Stan stood out, he was the gray in a rainbow and boring as it was, she couldn't imagine him any other way. 

He nodded at her, a bemused smile tugging at his lips before he went over to a washing machine where he was washing his bedding. Ben comes back a few seconds later, sitting back down in his seat. "Do you always write in cursive?" Bev asked him. He nods, "Pretty much." Ben shrugs. "Something so satisfying about connecting the letters you know?" The two get back to work and were finished long before Bens' clothes stopped in the dryer. "What do you think about it?" He asks her after writing the last line. Beverly can't help but smile, "It's nice."

𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹  
𝒜𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒹𝒹𝓈  
𝑅𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓀𝓎  
𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃  
\---  
There are only so many reasons why someone would be knocking on your door at two in the morning, that is if you weren't in a boarding school. But curfew was eight on school nights and Beverly was asleep by ten so who the hell was banging on her door? The banging stops but it's too late because she's already awake and the moon is sneering at her from the window. "What the hell?" She voices, looking beside her to see Eleven literally drooling on her pillow. She rolled her eyes and went over to open her door, she expected Myra House to be at the door. If Myra House had been at the door, that would've been easier to comprehend versus the newspaper in front of her. 

She rolls her eyes and picks it up, squinting at the words on the page. its the same newspaper from this morning, but the part about working in the infirmary was circled with a pen. The article above was something about cheerleader tryouts and the words 'Still' and 'Down' were circled, a crude question mark drawn next to 'down'. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, smiling drowsily. 

She walks into the bathroom, closes the door behind her and turns the light on. Taking her time and reading over the ad more carefully. "Interviews start Wednesday afternoon at five, ninth graders and above are invited to be nurse aids. You will be responsible for but not limited to: Weekly dry cleaning of bedding, sign-ins, and outs, sanitary disposal, etc." Sanitary disposal is underlined and Beverly notes to ask questions about that later. Nothing else is underlined but the ad goes on to explain how pay worked and what things were available for upperclassmen that weren't for Freshmen. The adult staff aren't in the building until eleven so upperclassmen took over until then, that was during the morning and Bev wasn't a morning person. Freshman could only work in the afternoons. The pay seemed nice, and a perk was the coupons for the school store that came along with paychecks. She continued to flip through the paper until she got to the back. 

"Pull your ear at Stretch," It said. "Ask for notebook paper." Bev stares at the writing for a moment, expecting the words to rearrange themselves to make more sense. Not knowing what to do next, she hides the newspaper in her panty drawer and tries to go back to sleep. Adrenaline keeps her up, though, and soon the moon stops making fun of her just for the sun to start. Maybe if she took a shower she would feel better, what time was it? six-thirty? That's perfect, she can take a cold shower and still be able to take her time to get ready.

She gathers her things and heads for the showers. At six-thirty am, she was the only person in the showers so she takes her time. By the time she's getting out, girls start flooding in, brave are the girls who take their showers during the morning. She goes back to her dorm and begins to get ready, ignoring the way Elle stared at her while she dressed. Beverly had caught Elle staring at her while she picked her clothes out before, she always thought it was because Elle didn't really know how to dress. This morning, Bev was wearing her green overalls, the ones that looked amazing with that burgundy t-shirt underneath. 

And as she walks past a still staring Elle, she thinks that if the girl just unbuttoned that flannel and cuffed the sleeves, there might be hope. Her thoughts are cut short by what she sees in front of her though, on the floor and extending an arm under the door of some unknowing girls' room, was Myra House. "Ray Ray, I swear to god, if you make me go get Ms. Ashley I will personally make sure that you never leave this room again for the rest of the year!" Myra threatened. Now, as for poor Ray Ray, she would be checked into the infirmary later for nonstop puking all morning. But since that hasn't happened yet and all Beverly sees is Myra House stretching like the elastic around her wrist, all she says is; "Hey." She says to Myra who just looks at her like she's crazy. "Hey?" Myra repeated, her tone is beyond annoyed. Beverly goes out on a chance and tugs on her ear.

"Do you have any notebook paper?" Bev asked. It's quiet for what feels like forever, then realization crosses Myra's face and she says; "Does it look like I have fucking notebook paper? I mean seriously, I have my arm up this doors asshole and you're asking me for notebook paper? What the hell! You ninth-graders make me want to take a fucking toaster bath." She spats. "And I say that as a ninth-grader. Jesus, yes I have notebook paper, go wait in the office." Beverly is stunned for a moment. Stunned and confused because Myra said something about the asshole of a door and...just...what? So here she is in the six by six office that Dorm Managers operated out of. Myra comes in about five minutes later and it's tense because Bev isn't sure if she had done the right thing or not. Her heart is pounding in her chest but she tries to seem calm. It felt like she was still running on the adrenaline she felt at two am. Myra sits down in her seat with a huff, she was a big girl but pretty in the face and she stares at Beverly with suffocating intensity for a few seconds. "Is there something on my face?" Beverly asked, trying to keep her voice steady. It's hard, especially with the way poisonous green eyes were staring at her. "Are you serious?" The girl with the poison glance asked. Bev gulped, what was that supposed to mean? "That depends." She said, Bens words were heavy on her shoulders. You're brave, Beverly Marsh. "Should I be?" Myra smiles at her mischievously.  
\---  
Beverly is sitting in the lunchroom this afternoon, Ben is not beside her. Ben is inside her head repeating the same thing over and over, telling her how brave she is. It's true, she felt brave in that moment, sitting beside a bunch of strangers listening to the Dentist of the school, Mr.Clarke. He went over some more basic information, talked about how this job was perfect for those who wanted to go into a health orientated career and also passed around a sheet to fill out. Seniors get interviewed that day when everyone else leaves, the eleventh graders and tenth will go tomorrow and so on and so forth until it's Bev sitting in that chair. She hopes no one can read minds because if they can, they know all about the way Myra House has been occupying her head. 

"Your pay gets docked a little bit. It's a fee to make sure I don't sing like a bird." The girl had warned. "If the adults find out I can only do so much damage control, so don't get fucking caught." Then she tells Beverly just how illegal the work she'd be doing is. "What makes you want this job, Ms.Marsh." Mr. Clarke asked her. Money. "I want to go into nursing when I'm older." She says smiling wide. She was wearing a dress today, a little floral one she had gotten from a thrift store when her and her aunt lived in Maine. She thought it made her look soft so for a while, it rotted in her closet. But she pulled it out this morning, yes she did. 

She also pulled out those sandals and curled her hair with her neighbors curling iron. She was only fourteen but sitting in this seat she felt like an adult. It made her want to vomit. Mr. Clarke nods, "I'm sure you do, Ms. Marsh." There's a pause. "You have two detentions this weekend one because you had food in your dorm and two, being disrespectful in class." He gives her that look that adults just love to give kids when they think they have them caught. "Disrespecting." Is overkill, all I did was laugh. "Is right, Mr. Clarke. I found something funny that I shouldn't have, I deserve the detention." The teacher in front of her looks skeptical for a while but then his expression relaxes and he gives her a smile.

"Well, perhaps you also deserve a chance to prove yourself. I think you might have yourself a job, Beverly." Beverly smiles, it's fake and forced and feels awful but goddamnit if she doesn't smile until she's out of his office and down the hall. She takes a detour in the bathroom and hangs over the sink, taking a few deep breaths. Looking in the mirror makes her feel uneasy. Why is her hair so long? It was flopping onto her forehead and when she pulled it, it reached the bridge of her nose. She didn't just want it short, she wanted it gone all together. 

Maybe she wouldn't look like a girl anymore, that makes her calm down. She wouldn't look like a girl anymore, she'd never be his little girl again. Bev takes some toilet paper and drags it across her lips and eyes roughly, rubbing until all the makeup is gone. Then, with her hands, she pull back all of her hair and looks in the mirror at the person staring back at her. "Woah." She tells her reflection. "I'm gonna be a fucking drug mule."


	4. Chapter 4: "Ben, are you an axe murderer? Be honest."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Plus, I wouldn't need a cover story." Ben continued, dipping his bread into his roast. Fucking weirdo. "I could literally get away with murder." He says, taking a bite of his soaked biscuit. Beverly chuckled, "Ben, are you an ax murderer? Be honest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! We get another loser introduced today! To make all your sappy, Reddie dreams come true.

Beverly Marsh spends her Saturday in the ISS room staring at a wall with a bunch of other delinquent foodies. When she isn't staring at the wall she glances at Eleven, because yes, she knows that Elle stole a pair of her earrings but she hasn't decided if she wants to say anything about it yet. She'd only noticed her studs were gone the night before when she was looking for scissors(because she cut that fucking dress up and sewed strips of it down the back of her denim jacket) and she checked in her jewelry box. She only had one pair of studs and they were gone. Beverly knows Elle stole them because she saw them under the girls' pillow, waiting there as if they were teeth for the fucking tooth fairy. "Hey," She wanted to tease while Eleven tucked herself in that night. "They'll look good if you pair it with my blue shirt, the one with the butterfly on it?" Instead, she sat at the desk and worked on her jacket all night. Remembering how Shelby would sew her old shirts back up if they were falling apart and they couldn't afford new ones.

This bites her in the ass when she is fully in detention, like, butt hurting because she's been sitting for five hours. They couldn't so much as bring a book to read, so she stared out the window to the lake till she fell asleep. When she woke up, someone had drawn on her with a blue marker. The clock said five o'clock and now she had a crude dick on her forearm. "Why'd you make it so small?" She whispers to the laughing boy beside her. He was a sixth-grader, she could tell because of the dinosaur shirt he was wearing. Only eleven-year-olds wore that kiddy shit. He gives her a weird look and turns away, a blush settled sleepily on his skin. If Beverly had a pen, she would go over it and make it look like a rocket ship or something. 

Then, at least, she wouldn't have gotten such weird stares when she got in line for dinner after detention. "What's that on your hand?" Ben asked as he later out a blanket. It was a little dark outside but since it was the weekend, picnics were still allowed. Beverly would've shrugged if she hadn't been carrying both her and Bens trays. They were having roasts today and Bev always gave Ben her bread when they had roast days(who eats their roasts with bread anyway?). "I was bored, thought I might doodle you." She answered, handing him his food when he reached for it. "Accurate?" He shook his head, sitting Indian style. 

"Oh totally," Ben says, grabbing his stomach fat and shaking it. Beverly chuckles sitting beside him. She was so tired, she just wanted to rest her head in his lap and go to sleep. She was afraid she'd have nightmares though, August was slowly bleeding into September. And September, frankly, was a shitty month. Her dad died in September, she didn't fucking like thinking about her dad. She presses her palm painfully to the side of her temple, she always started acting weird in September. "How was the interview?" He asked. The cafeteria had the outside lights on, so the light was dim but they could still see. 

"Fine." Beverly answers. "I was kissing so much ass, Ben. You'd have been proud of me." She describes to him how the interview went. He nods along the whole way, listening as if someone were telling him a tale from the crypt. "You want to know what I did on Friday?" Ben asked her. She nods, shoveling potatoes into her mouth. "I...I stole a book." He says hesitantly. Beverly stops eating to stare at him, trying to figure out if this was Ben sitting in front of her or what. "You stoke a book?" She asked, dumbfounded. 

"From where?"

He shrugs like it's obvious. "The store." Ben started, fiddling his fingers. "It was right after school and I hadn't seen you all day, I was just bored and the gym is only fun when you have someone to hang out with. So I thought, hey, what would me and Beverly do if she were here?" Thievery, apparently. "I just went in there, picked it up and started to walk off. The girl at the counter started to come after me so I panicked and came up with this stupid memory where the book had been missing for weeks and I was just returning it." Beverly let's out a 'hmm' as his story finishes. "So you...you didn't steal a book?" She says. 

"I almost did though! It was a book on grave digging." He says enthusiastically. Beverly feels the marbles in her head bounce around, each time one hit her scull a new question came to mind. "Why the fuck were you trying to steal a book on grave digging, Ben Hanscom?" Bev expressed. "Bet you actually just killed the lady at the counter and the book thing is your cover story." Ben laughs nervously, bending over to hide his face. "I don't think it was so much about which book I stole as long as I stole it." He answered. "Plus, I wouldn't need a cover story." Ben continued, dipping his bread into his roast. Fucking weirdo. "I could literally get away with murder." He says, taking a bite of his soaked biscuit. Beverly chuckled, "Ben, are you an ax murderer? Be honest."  
—-  
She doesn't sleep that night, instead, she stares at her ceiling and imagines the store clerk running up to Ben. She thinks about how red his cheeks were and how he must've shrunk in on himself. For an overweight kid, he could make himself so small. She's seen the way he cowers in the presence of older boys, he doesn't do that when he's around her, though. No, when he's around her he's her happy, talkative, Ben. When he's with her he steals things. He wouldn't have done that if she hadn't have influenced him. 

She turns on her side but she can't escape it. Ben could get away with anything, he's totally right about that, but he was too sweet to even try anything wrong. Bev wishes he would stay that way, she's scared to see what would happen to Ben if he tries to steal the book again. Or worse, if he succeeds. There's another reason she didn't sleep that night, but she drowns that out by hitting her head against the bed frame a few times. It's effective. Sunday morning she's choosing her outfit when she can't help but look over at Eleven, the girl was taking longer to get ready than usual. 

She was looking at the clothes hung up in her side of the closet with a grimace. Eleven didn't have detention today but she did have a speech class. Beverly dresses and as she's on her way out, she pauses. "Eleven?" She says. Elle looks at her but only briefly. "Don't talk to me." She spoke. Beverly wants to bark back but instead, she goes back over and pulls out her green converses. Then, she reaches up for her belt. "That green flannel is huge, you can wear it like a dress," Bev stated. "Button it all the way up, but the belt around your waist, I hope you can wear nines." Then she leaves and makes her way down to breakfast. 

She struggled to look for a place to eat, usually Ben met her in the reck room but he wasn't even in the cafeteria this morning. She's so busy looking that she didn't notice when someone came up behind her. "Oh my god, yo, I fucking love your jacket!" Someone shrieked. She turned around and looked into the apple green eyes of one of the girls that were in her math class. She was the one who specifically asked about Bev living in Hollywood, the leader of a group of girls that were actually really nice despite their appearances. They seemed like mean girls at first. But what kinda mean girl complimented your jacket out of nowhere?

"Oh, thanks." Bev said bashfully. "I made it." It's the black denim jacket with the floral patterns down the back. Grettas mouth fell open. "Really!? That's super cool!" Beverly thanked her again. "You could start doing that as, like, a job. Commissions for clothes, or whatever. That's what I do!" She said excitedly. 

"I have my dad send me a bunch of mixtapes from video stores and then I sell them. If you ever want some music, I live on row C." Gretta beamed. That's not a bad idea, Bev thought. "I already have a job but maybe if I get fired or something." They laugh. "Well, just think about it I guess. See you around Beverly." Gretta walks away and Bev is by herself again. She eats breakfast alone and heads to the ISS room.

Bev opens the door and is blasted with the sound of laughter. It was as if she hadn't just walked into ISS but some type of party. The older kids sat in the desks while some sit on them. She cranes her neck to see what's so funny. They're laughing at Richie, he's got the twelfth graders grabbing their stomachs and howling, and when he sees Beverly he gives her a cheeky grin. "There's the lady of the hour!" He announced, making his whole crowd turn to her. Great, put her on the spot, she can handle that. "I thought you were the lady of the hour, roadrunner." She spats, putting a hand on her hip. 

Suddenly Richie is multiplied and there's two of him. It's like his reflection hopped out of the mirror and stood beside him. "Fuck you Ms. Amofah," Richie(the real one)says, lifting up a middle finger. Then, his clone laughs and snuggles up to him like a...like a girl. "Oh Richie, you are so funny!" It says in a high pitched voice. "Now, Do your Leonardo DiCaprio voice," The clone cooed, walking two fingers up Richie's arm. This gets the kids around him laughing. His clone disperses and now he's back to being the only asshole in the room. "Is that how that happened?" Beverly asked him sarcastically. 

"Specifically remember you getting in trouble because some girl pointed out how much of a virgin you are." Richie lets out a soft laugh, so little it isn't heard over the roar of big kids. "Bevahlee Mohsh ges awf a good one!" He howled in a horrible English accent. Their banter is cut short when Mr. Tinner comes through the door. He was a fat, old man who could pull objects out of photos. He's the art teacher but also does detention on weekends, Beverly enjoyed Mr. Tinner despite not taking his class during the week. Was that because out of the ten people who fell asleep at their desks yesterday, he was the first one? Who knows. "I'd hope most of you were virgins." He stated, unbothered. Walking over to the desk. "Otherwise why is the bowl of condoms in the infirmary always so full?" A few scoffs and laughs go throughout the room. "Freshman need to go to the Chorus Room for detention today." Mr. Tinner continues. Beverly gets up to leave, giving Richie the 'c'mon' look but he winks at her and settles in at a desk. 

She just nods at him and heads off, passing the school store where the ghost of a budding thief lurks, to the chorus room. As she reaches the door, she hears someone singing. She stopped and pressed her ear against the door. "Cause lovesick boys will write you love songs..." the pressing of unsure piano notes. "And lovesick girls will always listen. But what you don't know is that there's plenty of us so keep your petals pointed towards the sun and bloo-ooh-oom...bloo-ooh-oom." The piano playing is slow, it's majority high but every now and then a low key is struck. The piano-playing isn't good but the soft voice makes up for it. "Bloo-ooh-oom! Just bloom! Just...shit!" The person cuts off, disciplining the piano with a smack to the keys. 

Beverly takes the chance to burst in, pretending she hadn't heard any of it. In front of her is who she guesses is a sixth-grader. He's a rather small boy and is wearing two fanny packs. Beverly doesn't know why someone would need one, let alone two. She wants to laugh at him. She doesn't. He pretends to not notice her and sits down, Beverly sits a few seats away from him. "Whatcha in for?" She asked him. He turns in his seat and looks her up and down briefly, "I warned a teacher that she has aids."

"You told someone that they might have aids!?"

"No, I said she did have aids." A few beats of silence go by. "I stole a book from the school store." She tells him. "Was it a good book?" He asked. "No. It was a grave-digging manual...you should give it to your aids-teacher." That makes him laugh a little. "You were at the job fair on Wednesday." He says to her when he sees the confused look on her face he says; "I was there too. I got hired, actually." She tells him she did as well. "What's your name," Beverly asked, then she says; "I'm Beverly the book thief."  
"I'm Eddie." He answered happily. "The boy who told his teacher she had aids."  
"Did she really?"  
"Probably not." This gets Beverly laughing, which in turn gets Eddie laughing. 

So now they're in detention together laughing and what the fuck this person is amazing why didn't Beverly meet him sooner? Fun fact, the detention teacher never shows up, if there was even supposed to be one. Bev itches to ask him if he wrote the song he was singing earlier but ultimately decides against it. He doesn't seem like an open book, the two end up talking the majority of the time and all the information she gets on him is his name and some of his classes. She also gets him to show her some of the content of his fanny packs. The first one is a first aid kit. "Why do you carry all this stuff around?" She asked, poking the roll of bandages. 

he watches amused as he puts hand sanitizer on his hands all the way up to his elbow before picking the gauze back up. "At any given point I could scrape myself you know...like I could scrape myself with the door handle, right? A door handle seems innocent enough but the germs found on them are known to cause skin infections." He rambles on, Beverly's mouth is wide open and she stares at him. The more he goes on, the redder his face gets. Soon, his face matched the color of the shorts he was wearing. "Suddenly my arm is infected and now it has to be cut off." He finished, taking a deep breath. Then he reached into his first fanny pack for an inhaler. To say that Beverly was holding back a laugh, would be an understatement. 

The noise she was holding back was more like a howl. "Are you okay?" She asked as he used his inhaler. He nods, wiping mouthpiece clean with a disinfectant wipe. "Asthma," Eddie tells her. "You probably think I'm a freak right?" He continued. Beverly shrugs, "Yeah, maybe. But we can be freaks together. Coworkers?" She said casually, putting out her pinky. He winces at it as if she just pointed a knife at him. It takes him a moment but he finally reaches out, linking his pinky with hers. "Coworkers." He agreed. They shake on it and when he has his hand back he applied more hand sanitizer and did the ritual again. Beverly got the memo. She asks for some hand sanitizer this time. Eddie Kaspbrak, fellow freak, and co-worker smiles at her.

—-  
Beverly doesn't see Ben all day, the first and only time she sees him is at dinner and even that is brief. "Ben?" She asked, poking him. He was slumped over in his seat, asleep as all hell. Beverly had brought her blanket and everything prepared to picnic outside again. "Benji boy..." She cooed, sitting beside him and nudging him in the side. This woke him up and he looked up at her, giving her a sleepy smile. "Hi Beaver," Ben says, nudging her back. "How was detention?" She shrugs, "'s alright." She looks around the room for Eddie but she can't find him.

"Are you okay?" Ben nods, yawning. "I didn't get to sleep last night, fucking neighbor..." He murmured. He plays with his food for a minute, poking his potatoes and then swirling them around. "Will you be mad at me if I just leave?" Ben asked. "Think I might go to bed early..." Beverly shakes her head. "Dude, go ahead. You look like shit." She assured. He pushes himself up from his seat and waves her 'bye' before walking off. 

After sitting there for a while she realizes, this is her first time eating dinner alone. She always had Ben with her, was the lunchroom always this loud? She looks at her arm, noticing that the badly drawn penis was still there. It makes her laugh for a moment. Beverly goes home that night to see Eleven looking at herself in the mirror with an intense look on her face. "Hey." Beverly interrupts, closing the door behind her. 

Elle isn't wearing the outfit she picked out that morning, she's wearing the pink dress from the beginning of the year. Eleven doesn't acknowledge Beverlys greeting. "You know what I learned today?" Eleven spoke. "That treaty is not the same thing as sorry." She says. "You told me treaty meant 'sorry, won't do it again' but that's a lie. Treaty means agreement. That means you never said sorry." Beverly is a little taken back, she tries to not let it show as she remakes her bed. "Why would I say sorry, Eleven?" Questioned Beverly, not looking at her. "You got me in trouble." Answered Elle. 

"Well, I got in trouble too," She snapped back.

Eleven doesn't say anything more after that and Bev just lays down and rolled over. For some reason she wants to cry. She starts training on Tuesday, so she spends her Monday looking over the job description. Ben is still nowhere to be found but luckily, she runs into Eddie on her way the library. "Hey, Freak!" She smirked, coming up behind him. "Where are you going?"

He pointed down the hall, "Chorus room. I have a piano lesson today." He tells her. "What time does it end?" She asked, "I was gonna go chill in the library if you want to come after you're done smashing keys." He wrinkled his nose. "Don't call it 'smashing keys' that sounds weird. It depends, sometimes it's two hours, sometimes it's three." They break off from each other and she mentally marks her calendar. 

Eddie has piano lessons on Mondays, good to know. 

The job doesn't look too bad, she'll be mostly delivering medicine to patients but if an adult needs her to do something else, she's at their disposal. Her hours are from five to six-thirty and she works Tuesday through Saturday. She can do that, easy peasy. Beverly has a nightmare that night. It's bad, it's really bad. She wakes up shaking and goosebumps are all over her body. The dream is so vivid and so clear, from the amount of blood right down to the way his fingers twitched as death filled up his body. She rushes to the bathroom and throws up. 

She felt sick, Jesus Christ. It's four am, she's in the bathroom with vomit on her chin and tears in her eyes and everything feels so...bad. The memories hurt so bad, oh my god they hurt. She needs something worse, a little jolt of pain to remind herself that there are worse things. She scratches her arm, digging the nails into the skin and then dragging slowly. She takes a deep breath, a long one trapped in her stomach before exhaling. The dream starts to fade, she splashed some water on her face and heads back to bed. It's a while before she actually falls asleep.  
—-  
Beverlys first day of work was as fun as it was stressful. She spent most of her time signing patients in and taking temperatures. She had known a stomach bug was going around but she hadn't known how bad it was. Her hand hurt from writing so many names. In between work she bullshitted with Eddie, spraying so much air freshener that he just about had an asthma attack. She'd laughed at him till she realized she couldn't breathe either. And the nurses hadn't found it funny when the utility closet literally had to be evacuated because it was choking people. 

Eddie had looked ready to kill Bev and he said as much. Punching her in the side as he regained use of his lungs. The highlight of her first day, however, was not learning that you could kill someone with air freshener. It came at the very end of the day in the form of a boy claiming to have strep throat.

"Name?" She asked him. "B-Bill Denbrough." He stuttered out. He was so obviously faking being sick but Bev would humor him. She writes down his name, the time, the date. "Here, you have to sign who your homeroom teacher is at the bottom." He nodded and did so. Rather quickly, way quicker than it took a regular person to write someone's whole name. She furrowed her eyebrows at his writing. 

"Are you serious?" She squinted at his writing. It was completely illegible. The two stare at each other for a moment before Bev sighs and asked the other standard questions. When did you first start feeling sick? Have you been in physical contact with others since? His answers are so bullshit that Bev can smell it. She's about to walk away when Bill fake coughs and causes her to look back at him. "G-got any o-other q-questions?" He cleared his throat expectantly. 

Bev thought for a moment and then went tense. It was a quick shift, from fine to; whatthefucki'mreallydoingthisohmygod, back to fine. "Yeah actually. Do a lot of rule-breaking, Denbrough?" Bill, for the first time since she's met him, smiles. "Lots." He replies calmly, cooly. And that's the signal. If a patient comes in, Bev asks them; "Do a lot of rule-breaking, Lastname." And if they say 'Lots' then they're in on it. Beverly brings the check-in sheet to the doctor and waits. 

They give Bill the pills for his strep throat and as Beverly leads him out, he stuffs them in her pocket.

It's quick, it's easy, it's fast money. The day goes by without a hitch, she spends time in between work and dinner with Eddie, the two of them hanging out in the drama room. Beverly suggested they go to the gym and play basketball or something but Eddie shot that down like it was a duck in mid-air, "All the sweat in that room? No, absolutely not, might as well be going for a swim in a toilet bowl." He physically shivers at the thought. Bev just shrugs and changes the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! I am so sorry for missing last week! It was Thanksgiving break and I was at my dads. Maybe I can make it up to you, however, maybe tomorrow with a double update?


	5. Chapter 5: "Because you have beef with the counter guy?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't like the guy at the counter." He confessed with a huff. Beverly raised an eyebrow at him.
> 
> "You don't like the guy at the counter?" He nods as an answer, "I don't like him, he's a pussy." 
> 
> Beverly 'oh's' sarcastically. "So basically," She starts, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I'm just supposed to stop what I'm doing because you have beef with the counter guy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for missing an update. Enjoy!

She is pissed. She's pissed and Bastion can tell because when she asks for a pass he says; "You aren't going to kill anybody if I let you back there are you?" One eyebrow raised suspiciously. Despite the green color pallet of the boy's dorm, Beverly marsh is seeing red. She just shrugs, "That depends." He hands her the slip and she snatches it a little too hard. "On how well I hide the body." Bastion sighs and shakes his head, walking off. Bev just stands there for a minute trying to calm herself down. Was she overreacting? She hadn't seen Ben for basically a week and the first time she does, he's too asleep to talk to her. It would put anyone in a bad mood, she reassured herself. 

That wasn't the only reason she was feeling off-put. She'd gotten a letter from her aunt that morning. One that detailed the loss of their van. Her aunt was living with some drummer she met in Baltimore and they lived in apartments that were sat on a cliff almost. The landlord was some shady old woman who kept refusing to put railing around the building and it ended up biting Shelby in the ass. She had the thing in neutral, turned off the engine and almost died trying to get out the car. "You were almost orphaned over a van, kid." She can hear Shelby's nervous laugh through the paper. They loved that car, it was like losing a family member. 

Y'Know, one you actually cared for.

The newspaper had also thrown her off but for a different reason(his name was Robert Gray, Bev will learn in a few weeks when the newspaper informs her that his death sentence had been carried out). There'd also been a short article warning about the stomach bug going around. Apparently, the head of the newspaper had gotten sick themselves. Now here she is at B11, knocking so hard the door is shaking on its hinges. And when the door opens, a head peaks out. She's seen him before but never spoken past doing 'business'. He looks down at her and furrows his eyebrows and looked down the hallway. Almost like he was expecting to see someone else with her.

As if the five-four volcano wrapped in flannel was the least of his worries. "I'm n-n-not working r-right now." He tells her, scratching at the side of his head. She cocks her head at him. "Well, then it's a good thing I'm not here for you," Bev says, chewing loudly on her gum(thanks Stan). "Is Richie here?" Bill nods but looks unsure still, his blue-sky eyes flashing around nervously. "I'm not working either." She tells him, he still looks unsure. "I really just need to speak to your roommate." He sighs, licking his lips and opening the door. Beverly couldn't help but smirk while she walked past him.

Their room is a breath of fresh air in contrast to the Barn Ben lived in. Was it clean? Did it smell nice? No, but it was still a hundred times better. Their comforters were different, one was red and the other was black, unlike the olive green in Bens room. The walls were cluttered with posters and polaroid photos, Bev looked briefly at them. There was one where Bill is wearing Richie's glasses and Richie is behind him going crosseyed but smiling nonetheless. The date at the bottom read; 'October 1993'. Kinda crazy knowing that the cute curly-headed kid in the photo grew up to be the dweeb in front of her now.

He was in the middle of studying by the looks of it, Indian style sitting on his bed with a textbook in his lap. She must have disturbed him with her loud knocking because he watches her walk in. Throwing Bill a look that gets him a mouthed 'I don't know' for an answer. "Heya, Marsh." He greeted, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Come to hop on the Richie train?"

"Is the next stop the hospital?"

Richie puts his hands up beside his head, grinning like an idiot. "I mean hey, if that's what you're into"-"Are you seriously just the worse person ever?" She interrupted. " I get that joking and being an asshole is sorta like your thing but are you really just a total jackass?" Richie squinted at her. It looks weird with how blown out his eyes are behind his glasses, "Define jackass." He challenged. Beverly leans up against the wall, crossing her arms against her chest. "Play your music loud every night not giving a fuck if anyone else is getting sleep or not?" She explained. "Do you have bionic fucking hearing?" He pestered. "Is that why you're complaining about music you can hear all the way from the girl's dorm?" Bill listened from the door, chewing on his nails.

His face was extremely red as he looked from Richie to Beverly in a constant, anxious cycle. "I'm here for a friend, he lives next door." She explained. "Ben Hanscom." The realization hit Bill and he finally allowed his shoulders to go slack. "B-Ben from drama?" He asked Beverly. Richie replied for her by snapping his fingers, "Ben from fucking drama." He repeated, pointing at Bill. "Why didn't he say anything if it was bothering him so much?" Beverly thinks back to school hours when she had prepared to eat with Eddie again when Bens's head peaked up out of nowhere.

He'd looked around drowsily before sitting in a vacant seat and putting his head in the crease of his arm. She--being the good friend that she was--crashed beside him, dropping her tray on the table with such a 'bang' that it sent him jolting awake. She could still hear the way his voice cracked when he asked her why she would do that. Beverly didn't have an answer for that one(Cough, boredom, cough)so she asked him a question instead. She didn't like the answer she got. He'd gone to Bastion not once but twice in the past week and no steps had been taken.

Music still blared at night, causing him to get up late(skip breakfast)and go to bed early(ditch dinner). It makes Bev not feel bad for the way she snatched the pass out of Bastions' hand. "Why do you have your speaker on a hundred every night?" She dared, eyes looking over to the boombox. It sat on Richie's dresser, taking up the whole surface, cluttered with tapes. Some in cases, others were strewn about. It looked like the most expensive thing in the room and that's including the three teens surrounding it. Richie's eyes floated over to Bill and the two boys shared a long look. An unspoken conversation going on between them. "W-we'll t-talk to Ben." The stutterer promised, walking over to stand beside Richie. "A-and Richie w-will apo-apologize." Beverly meets Richie's gaze and he winks at her, a wink that she returns.

"Richie will?"  
"Richie Better."  
\---  
"Beverly?" Eddie whisper shouted, his lips pinched in a line. The two of them were at work and while Bev had been taking the temperature of a couple of Clubhouse kids, Eddie was breaking his back running errands for one of the doctors. Now, he was sticking his head out of the employee bathroom motioning for her to come near him. "Beverly!" He repeats, pss-ting at her. She rolled her eyes and asked the sickly eleventh grader to give her a second. "What do you want, short stack?" Bev says to him, leaning nonchalantly beside the cracked door. "Will you take the dirty scrubs to the laundry Matt for me?" He asked her in a hushed tone.

"Why don't you do it? You have super speed."-"It isn't fucking superspeed!" Eddie screeched, his high pitch voice turning heads. She laughed at him, reaching out and shuffling the tufts of brown hair that sat comfortably on his forehead. Eddie could slow down and speed up time around himself. Technically, he doesn't have superspeed. But if he slows down the time and starts walking, that's what it looks like. "I don't like the guy at the counter." He confessed with a huff. Beverly raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't like the guy at the counter?" He nods as an answer, "I don't like him, he's a pussy."  
Beverly 'oh's' sarcastically. "So basically," She starts, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I'm just supposed to stop what I'm doing because you have beef with the counter guy?" Eddie stumbles over his words, blood rushing to his cheeks. Finally giving up on words, he puts his hands together, bending down a bit(but he would rather die than get on his knees in a bathroom)and giving her puppy dog eyes. "Bev, if you do this I'll owe you." Eddie declared. A few mumbled 'pleases' make their way to Beverly's ears and she groaned, throwing her head against the wall. "You wound me, Kaspbrak." She gave in, laughing at how Eddie punched the air in victory.

"Thank you, Bev. I mean it." She tells him not to worry about it and gathers up the scrubs, making her way to the west building to start the load. It had rained that morning so there weren't as many people outside as usual. There were a few brave ones trying their luck with a game of football. It seemed to be going okay for the most part. Just as Bev had sat down the basket so she could open the door, the kid who caught the ball took a massive tumble. Digging his face into the slimy, dirty, ground. She winced, cringing as he let out a pained yelp. The laundry Matt was the same stale white it always was. People fought over the remote to the TV and the guy at the counter ignored them, spinning lazily in his office chair.

He was a black boy with fuzzy dreads that went down to his shoulders. She'd never noticed it before but he did have a name tag. Stephen, it read. His eyes scan her as she approaches and it makes her skin crawl. "Eyes up here, buddy." Bev snapped. Stephen caught eyes with her for a split second, looking away with a cough. Without peeling his gaze from the white tile floor he hands her the sign-in sheet. While she's scribbling her name and checking the time, she can't help but wonder how Eddie knew this person. And more importantly, why things went wrong. She hesitates at first but then; "What do you think about Eddie Kaspbrak?" Stephens' eyes flicker up at her. She thinks he isn't gonna answer but then he licks his lips and holds his head up.

"I think," Stephen starts, he had the accent of someone who spoke Spanish as a first language. "He can eat my shorts." 

hat's good enough for Bev, she finishes signing in and heads over to the vacant washing machine. Shoving the clothes in, adding the special germ removing washing powder and turning the dial. She watches it spin for a while, not thinking about anything in particular. It makes it the perfect opportunity for Stan Uris to sneak up on her. He doesn't go 'Boo' like a normal person would, no. All he does is greet her with a casual 'Hey' but it's clear his intent was to startle her. He succeeded. She jumped back, crossing her arms around herself for protection. There he is, in front of her, with his stupid blond curls and khaki shorts, a wide smile on his face.

"Try not to die before you can give me more gum." He teased her, putting in a basket of clothes in beside hers. Beverly scoffs. "I'm not your gum whore, Stanley." She dusts herself off, putting her palms on top of the washing machine and hoisting her body up to sit on top of it. "Please never say that sentence again," Stan spoke, voice flat. Beverly chuckled, she goes to kick the door to his machine when she notices that he suddenly got very still. "Stan?" She worried, putting her hand on his back. He wasn't moving. His body, half in the washing machine was stiff and rigid.

"Stan!?" Beverly cried, boots scuffing the tile as she collided with it. She crouched beside him, pulling at his shirt trying to make him move. It was useless, he was frozen solid. Her heart pung violently against her ribs, panic welled up in her stomach and spewed out of her mouth as she starting gasping. 

Stan was dead. 

Suddenly laughter boomed out from somewhere in front of her. When she looks up, she comes face to face with Patrick Hockstetter. She knows him from work("Do a lot of rule-breaking, Hockstetter?"). And now here he is, a tall, ferret-like boy with a smile that unhinged his jaw like a snake. He howled with laughter, mocking Beverly as she started shaking Stan. "You can't shake him out of it." Hocksteter jeered, his voice cold and shallow.

Patrick's voice was monotone like Stan's but lacking the sarcasm. "Actually...keep doing it. It was pretty funny." Beverly looked from Stan to Hockstetter and suddenly the panic is replaced with anger. She stands up, staring Patrick dead in the eye and clenching her fists. "Are you doing this?" Beverly says, trying to keep her voice steady. But damn, did she want to start screaming. It was unnatural how stiff Stan was. Like he was dead in mid-air. Patrick raised an eyebrow at her, still with that crazy grin on his face.  
He doesn't say anything but the way he looked at her answered for itself. "Stop it," Beverly warned, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "Stop fucking with him, Hockstetter." Patrick's hollow laugh rang in her ears, she's heard that kind of laugh before. "What are you..." He started, walking with a wide step closer to her. He took up an uncanny amount of space while he walked. Like a spider in its web, long, calculated legs planning each step. "...Gonna do if I don't?" She doesn't gulp, nor does she step back.

Beverly stood frozen, a cold numb feeling flooding her body. Like someone had poured ice water over her head and now she-Oh my god she couldn't move. Her mouth is frozen in a snarling shape, the ghost of words stasis on her tongue. The intensity of the paralysis grew as Patrick continued forward and it starts to hurt. With eyes unblinking, she looks frantically. By the TV she catches eyes with someone. He's watching as everything happens and you know what he does?

He looks away, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. 

"Don't look at them." Patrick cooed, he was so close she could smell him. Did he smell like dirty water and...bleach? "Look at me." Beverly looks up and comes face to face with her father. Her horribly dead father with muddy eyes and gray skin. His hair was scraggly, teeth black and rotten against cracked gums. His head was still bleeding as if the wound on his head was still fresh.

Beverly tried to scream but all that came out was a weak whimper. The harder she tried to breathe the more she couldn't. Tears trembled down her face and splattered on her shoulder. "Awe..." He mumbled, pursing his lips. "Why are you crying Bevvie?" He reached for her with one decayed hand. Maggots sprouting out the top like some twisted fucking flower. Don't touch me. She screamed at him. Don't fucking touch me.

The itch is feverish and fast-moving, she isn't aware of what she's doing until her father isn't reaching for her anymore.

He recoils his hand, watching in terror as whats left of it started to boil. He starts laughing. A brittle noise that crawled on her skin with little legs. Beverly squeaked again. Let me go, she was saying. Her eyelids fall slack and she quickly blinks a couple of times. When she looks up, her father is no longer there. His laugh echoed crazily in the air around them as Patrick Hockstetters' hand began to cook.

Flesh rising and falling, turning pink and then red. Overflowing with blood and pus, steam coming off of it. Let me fucking go, Beverly willed. She pushed hard against the stasis. A grunt and a yelp later and suddenly she's collapsed on the cold floor. She's quivering and gasping, pushing herself against the washing machine. Begging to phase through the damn thing and get away. Stans rigid body fell into the washer with an oof, his breaths fast and shallow. he tried to push up but hit his back on the inside of the machine, falling back down.

Beverly is horrified as the skin on Patrick's hand fell off and hit the floor with a smack. She gagged, the smell of burning flesh strong and putrid. People start to gather around, gasping and screaming themselves at what they see. Stan had his hands against his ears and was mumbling something quickly into his lap, refusing to look up. But Beverly didn't look away, she stared at Patrick's ruined hand even when the bone began to show.

She couldn't stop it, it was like her powers were taking complete control. Then, Stephen comes rushing through the crowd, he takes one look at the situation and starts screaming at everyone to back up. His buttery voice was the last thing she heard before blacking out.  
\---  
Beverly Marsh, simply put, was having a shitty day. Eddie Kaspbrak could say the same. Bev was unconscious when they hauled her in so not only has she failed the mission, she had gotten herself hospitalized. The point had been to avoid Stephen Perez. But here he was, waltzing into the infirmary to either watch the healing nurses re-grow Patrick's hand, annoy Eddie, or both. Eddie had just stood there, no air in his lungs. He kicks the wall softly, cursing at Bev in his head before walking up to Stephen as nonchalant as possible.

"What happened." He says. Stephen looks a little shocked, he even jumps at the sound of Eddie's voice. Stevie always acted afraid of him, it was annoying. "Are you asking me?" Stephen asked, his voice small. "Yes, duh." The eye-roll practically in his voice. The two watched in uncomfortable silence as a nurse soothed Patrick into a docile state. "It wouldn't have happened if you had come instead," Stephen spoke. "I know you're avoiding me but was it worth all of this, man?" He points to the steady rise and fall of Beverly's chest, then to the drugged-out expression of a boy who had just felt what it was like to be cooked.

Eddie doesn't answer.

Instead, he walks over and crouches beside Beverly. Eyeing the damages. Her face and neck were sweaty, hair stuck to her forehead. She looked depleted, pale and tired. "What happened." He asked again, although its more of a demand. Beverly wakes up a few moments later, by this point Stephen is at the part where Stan had gotten up and started running out of the laundry room, a few people chasing after him. She's disorientated, sounds coming first, blurry figures and shapes coming in second. She feels a buzzing under her skin, almost like her whole body was vibrating.

Beverly realizes that she must've had an accident and that's why she's in one of the beds she made up earlier with the fuzzy outline of Eddie Kaspbrak beside her. Sometimes she couldn't control her mutation, it was like a muscle. People could be better at it than others, Beverly was no pro but she rarely had accidents. Four in her whole life(make it five now) and the buzzing was a universal thing. It was like the Mutant version of fatigue. While Man sat around with their aching bones and callused fingers, Mutant would be bedridden with buzzing. Neither was better than the other.

Beverly shifted uncomfortably in her bed, groaning as she did so. Eddie stirred beside her. "And was Stan okay?" He was saying.  
"I didn't see him, he just stood up and bolted" A voice answered back. Bev grabbed her head with shaky fingers, trying to sit up. "Stan?" She asked quietly. Eddie hears her anyway, looking at her with worried eyes.

He speeds away on a mutated wind and comes back a few moments later with two pills on a small plate-like surface and a glass of water. "Beverly fucking Marsh," Eddie reprimanded. "I didn't ask you to get yourself killed." Beverly weakly smiles and reaches out for the medicine. "The sacrifices of a good friend. What is this? Benadryl?" She asked, swallowing them dry without the water. "It's for the buzzing. I can see you shaking." He pushes the water towards her but she refuses, shaking her head. "Beverly, I'm not giving you water for shits and-" He spares a worried glance at the working adults beside them.

They aren't paying attention.

"For giggles, okay? You just exhausted yourself, you frickin need water." Her stomach lurched at the idea. "If I drink that, Eddie, I will blow chunks." Beverly warned. "Do you want to clean up more vomit today Nurse Kaspbrak?" He doesn't let up, going on to tell her that the reason she felt sick was because she was dehydrated. It leads to him babbling uselessly on the number of ways someone could die of exhaustion and overexertion, going into extreme detail about the part where you throw up blood. Needless to say Beverly drinks the water and he was right,(but when was he not?)drinking the water did make her feel better. She ends up drinking a second cup.

Beverly turns her head a little so that she could wave at Stephen while he left. In the process, she catches a glimpse of Patrick. His skin is pale and sticky with sweat. He might've been asleep but he didn't look comfortable. His jaw clenched tight. She looks away and the rest of the time Eddie was on shift, she made it a point to keep her attention on him. Making fun of him while he worked around the infirmary. Sweeping, mopping, wiping down counters.  
"You missed a spot."  
"Where?"  
"There,"  
"Where?"

"Right here." She charmed, holding up a middle finger. Eddie shook his head at her. Trying to look annoyed but smiling all the same. When Eddie is gone, Beverly eats with her face over her tray.

A little after eight, Dr. Clarke comes out. He tells her that she'd be spending the next day in bed. Just till she'd gotten her energy back. "They wanted to give you detention again." He said. "I got you ISS for the rest of the week."  
"What!?" She exclaimed, raising up. She immediately had to go back down, getting dizzy from moving so fast. "That's only Thursday and Friday, Beverly." Dr. Clarke explains. "You're also being excused from work." It takes her a second or so to process what had just been said.

Her eyes burned. "You're firing me?" He tried to speak over her but she kept going. "Over What!? He's the one who started it, I was just protecting myself!"-"Mrs. Marsh." He said calmly. "You threw a tantrum"-"A tantrum!?" She cried out, laughing out loud. "I threw a tantrum!?" Beverly repeated. "Beverly!" His voice was loud and firm. His eyes are sympathetic but no one liked being talked over. "Listen up, I'm only explaining it once."

Patrick was getting punished for his role in today's events, yes, but Patrick hadn't signed a contract agreeing to stay out of trouble and keep his grades up. They were being harder on her because she had. This was only her second week at work and she was already getting in fights. Her behavior was something to be desired but her grades? That's what Dr. Clarke and the vice principal had been arguing over. Her grades were great and the only thing saving her from being fired on the spot. "That's why you're being excused." He finished. "You aren't fired as of yet but we'll know for sure by next Monday or so."  
\--  
They end up firing her and for a while, she absentmindedly blames Eddie.  
\--  
On Thursday, Beverly spends her day in the ISS room. In the afternoon, the highlight of her day is seeing Ben. He's at the entrance to the cafeteria waiting on her. "Ben!" She smiled happily, throwing herself at him. He hugs her back, the two of them rocking side to side. "Hey Beverly!" He greeted, admirably. "You look great." She could say the same about him. He got a haircut, when did that happen? "Oh hey, look at you." Bev complimented, touching his hair. "Sweet dreams?"

Ben nods, "Only sweet 'cause you were in them." He says. "What!?" Beverly smiled, taken back a little. "Uh, sorry, Jesus, I don't know why I said that."-"No, no, hey that was so sweet. I think that's, like, the nicest thing someone has ever said to me." Beverly nudged him playfully. He offered her a smile, although she could tell it was fake. "Yeah." Ben will tell Beverly about this moment a little later in their friendship.

It was the first time he ever messed with her memories. If you ask Bev about this moment the only thing she remembers is hugging Ben and then- "Hey Richie, hey Bill!" He said cheerfully. Richie reached out and messed up Ben's hair to return the greeting. Bill smiled and waved, red hair flopping on his forehead. "Haystack, my man!" Said Richie, walking beside him. "I didn't take you as a lady killer!" He threw a wink at Bev. Ben looks confused. Before he can ask why Richie would say that Bev says: "Ben gets all the chicks." She was masking her confusion at how friendly the three boys were acting. They eat lunch together again the next night and it's then that Bev learns that Bill and Ben were both signed up for drama. Richie knew him too because sometimes he would crash rehearsal.

"Why? Jealous?" The four of them squeeze into the dinner line, Ben falling at the back to hide how red his face was. Richie asked what he had to be jealous of. "Because the o-only th-thing you've e-ever dated was y-your hand." Bill stammered. Beverly laughed, watching as Richie smashed his hand against the stutterer's face, shoving him back a little. "Is that right, Bill? Your mom was telling a different story last night." This fireballed into all of them telling Richie how dumb he was and him deflecting the comments with mom jokes. Time flying at a pace so quick that Beverly doesn't even remember waiting in line.

They end up sitting outside because they couldn't find a table where four seats were available. That would've been fine if the grass wasn't wet from the non-stop storms that had plagued the week. Richie has--what he claims--a good idea. "Sit on me!" The boy announced happily. Nobody moves except Bill who says; "What?". "Well not on me obviously, but-" Richie split and multiplied, suddenly surrounded by four clones of himself. "Sit on them." Without a word his clone laid his stomach on the wet grass and Richie flopped on top of him.

Bill does the same without hesitation, the cloned Richie didn't so much as huff. Bev took a step back, "This is disturbing." She cringed. "On so many levels." Ben agreed. Richie with his mouth full of chicken soup explains himself. "They don't feel it. The wetness, the weight, nothing. I mean, my stomach is sorta cold and my chest feels tight but it isn't painful. The Dicks are basically invincible." He tells them this while bouncing on his own back. Despite what he says, Beverly still thinks it's uncomfortable and ends up leaning against the wall eating an apple for the rest of dinner.

Ben was peer pressured into giving it a try, dumping himself on the clones back.  
"See haystack?" Richie assured, still bouncing. "Ain't so bad."


	6. Chapter 6: "How goes it, bruv? Any good chucks lately?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She snuck up beside him, standing there until he looked down at her. "Bevvie Mohsh!" He twinkled in his English accent. "How goes it, bruv? Any good chucks lately?" Richie put his headphones around his neck, stepping off the wall to stand in front of her.
> 
> "Chucks?" asked Beverly. "You know what I mean? Something so funny that it's just...chuckalicious." He beamed at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY YES! SO IM BACK FROM MY MINI BREAK AND I REALIZED I NEVER FINISHED CHAPTER FIVE! If you've been following the story, please go back and re-read the fifth chapter, I'm so sorry guys! Enjoy! and well wishes from 2020!

"And he's not here because he's making up the tests he failed last week?"

"Correct."

"Great.'' Beverly voiced, rubbing her hands together. "Are you actually gonna play the song or was that just your evil ploy to lure me out here?" Eddie sighed, sitting at the piano with his small hands hovering over the keys. It was Sunday and he had just finished a song he'd been working on. He had wanted to play for someone after working so hard on it. The first person he checked in with was his Piano Tutor, but apparently, he was busy talking to teachers about his dumpster fire of a report card. So then he went to Bev who's plans for today had also been squashed. She and Ben were supposed to be in the woods behind the school looking for this gnarly centipede she had read about in science. 

But then Ben told her he had to go to drama rehearsal, he was in set design and needed to start working on it("You're a fucking nerd, say 'hi' to Bill for me, though."). So when she and Eddie ran into each other on their way to the west building, they immediately linked up and now here they were. Bev moved the chairs off the gazebos and laid flat on her back, head propped up with her hands. "It's just weird." He mumbled, but the chorus room was huge and most sounds echoed. Eddie hit the G key a few times lazily to pace his thoughts. He threw his head back and groaned; "I think I'm gonna be sick." The G key boomed off of the walls around them. 

"You don't have to sing for me if you don't want to," Beverly assured. "We could do something else." She thought for a moment, sitting up on her elbows. "I know a girl on Row C who sells mixtapes. I could get us some uh...what do you like? Spin Doctors? Mariah..." He keeps pressing on the 'G' key. "...Carey?" Eddie spins on his butt to face her. "Is that like...Jim Carrey's wife?" Beverly laughed, her orange hair tickling her ears. "Do you live under a rock?" She jeered. "Hey, don't make fun of me." He points a finger at her. 

"I know music, just not the artists or whatever." He goes on to ask her how she planned on playing the tapes anyway. Asking while playing 'happy birthday' on the piano. Missing keys every so often like the amateur he was. Beverly stood up and strolled over to the piano. Scootching Eddie over to sit next to him. When she's tucked in close beside him, Eddie puts her finger over one of the keys and tells her to just press it again and again until he told her to stop. Then he himself began to play, sometimes hitting a key that would make a harmony with the one key Beverly was pressing. 

"To answer your question," Beverly said over the music. "I know where to get a boom box we can use. So long as the asshat isn't busy." Eddie batted an eye at her. "Are you calling the boombox an asshat or the person who owns it?" Both, she shrugged. Eddie laughed softly and started humming. The humming matched up with the melody that the two were playing. Eddie started singing. It threw her off at first, missing a beat or two but she caught up again. His voice was raspy but he held notes beautifully and flew with them with angel wings.

When the song came to the chorus Beverly realizes it's the same he'd been singing right before they met. "Cause lovesick boys will write you love songs..." Eddie sang on. She looks over at him and sees that he's got his eyes closed. Dumb on practicality because he kept missing keys and messing up the melody but yet, something was endearing about the way he played. Like he wasn't trying to be the best or push himself. Just there, living in the moment and filling Bev with admiration. Eddie had very feminine features. 

High cheekbones, tiny lips, soft jaw. She thinks it was a lucky thing that Eddie Kaspbrak had been born with the X-gene. She can imagine him being pushed around at a Normie school, no slowing down the time and running away. No speeding it up so he won't have to sit through the health teachers stupid stories(A story Eddie had told that ended with him failing a test). But Eddie was here and finishing up his song with a hum. Far, far away from anything that could ever hurt him. He seemed a little embarrassed which was insane to Bev who sounded like she was dying every time she tried to sing. 

"Eddie fucking Kaspbrak!" She wooed for him, hands in the air. "You're too cool to wear two fanny packs, man." Eddie stood up off the stool and covered his ears. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"' He preached, face rushed with blood. "Go get the stupid tapes, I think I'm gonna go get a snack, " Beverly asks if they meet back in the chorus room or if she should meet him in the cafeteria. "Cafetera, that way we can walk back together." Beverly makes her way to the exit, clapping for Eddie one last time on her way out. Beside the entrance to the Chorus room was a poster detailing the up coming movie night. Bev had already knew about that because Ben was taking her. Being a total nerd has its perks, apparently("I get in free and I can bring a plus one.") She had to stop at her dorm to get the money first. Inside, Elle was laid down in bed, taking an afternoon nap.

She ignored her, going over to the shoebox next to the closet. Taking the top off and shuffling past the old papers she had put in there. At the bottom was a ziplock baggie filled with a fuck-ton of ten-dollar bills. If you took your time and counted it out you would see that it was two hundred dollars. Beverly pocketed twenty...thought about it and took another ten before carefully hiding it away again. On her way out she sees Myra House(who she is avoiding after what happened last Wednesday) and turns to go the other way. While walking, she overhears her neighbor arguing with another girl. 

The two of them were going at it. Beverly hadn't understood most of what was said but something Evie(at least she thinks that's her neighbor's name. A Hispanic girl who talked fast and walked faster)says makes her pick up the pace. She cuts through the showers onto row C and then has trouble remembering which number it was. She asks someone and they point her in the direction. Bev knocks and waits. She could hear the music playing from the inside.

The door creaks open. 

Bev peaks her head through, seeing that Gretta had opened the door and then went back to putting on her makeup. Mirror propped on her knees while she swatted on eyeliner. For a brief moment Beverly got jealous cause jeez, Gretta was killing that cat-eye. She walked in awkwardly, taking a look at the overflowing rack of Mixtapes the girl had on a rack. "You here for a tape, slut?" She heard Gretta say behind her. Beverly traced her finger along the rock section, stopping when she saw 'Nine Inch Nails'. "...Sure," Beverly answered.

She picked that one up but also something from 'Billy Joel' because she didn't know what to get for Eddie. "Did you hear what I said?" Gretta scowled, yanking the money out of Bev's hand. "Slut." She rocked uncomfortably on her feet, unsure of what she was supposed to say. "Whore." Beverly said back thinking it was a game. "I'm not the one that's a whore here," Gretta cursed. "I didn't suck off a taken guy, did I?" Beverly looked up and met Grettas gaze. She was staring at her, her eyes begging for a reaction. "Are you saying that I did?" Beverly asked, taking back her change with a swipe.

"My boyfriend." Gretta accused. "Patrick Hockstetter." Beverly had bad timing with the laughter. The laughing only made Gretta madder but Beverly just couldn't stop. "I didn't suck off Patrick fucking Hockstetter." She laughed out. "Yes you did, you fucking slut!" Gretta growled. "Get out of my room, get the fuck out!" Gretta teleported behind her and then shoved Bev into the hall, slamming the door behind her. 

This caught the attention of a lot of girls who were lounging in the corridor. Their eyes fall on her. Some shuffle on, some laugh, some whisper. Beverly feels something sink in her chest. She steadies herself on her feet and then takes off. Thinking that whatever just happened was a huge misunderstanding. It had to be, Beverly had only ever talked to Patrick twice and the second time she almost killed him. Where was the in-between when she did anything else?

As she strode into the hallway between the boys and girls dorm, she found just who she was looking for. He had a walkman in his hand, headphones over his ears while he nodded along. He looked fucking stupid. Glasses hanging off his nose, hair was so long that it hung over his eyes. She snuck up beside him, standing there until he looked down at her. "Bevvie Mohsh!" He twinkled in his English accent. "How goes it, bruv? Any good chucks lately?" Richie put his headphones around his neck, stepping off the wall to stand in front of her.

"Chucks?" asked Beverly. "You know what I mean? Something so funny that it's just...chuckalicious." He beamed at her. She chuckled and caught up with him, bumping into his side. "You know I was actually looking for you," Beverly explained. "Me and my friend were gonna play some music but we need a thing, can we use yours?" Richie reaches down and hits stop on his walkman, stuffing it back in his pocket. "You mean my Boomer? No way, that thing doesn't go anywhere I don't." 

"Easy fix." she shrugged. "Come hang out." 

He rolled his shoulders back, sighing. "I was sorta waiting on somebody, Marshie." His hand was doing the nervous thing again. Long fingers stretching in, stretching out. In and out, in and out, repeatedly. Beverly huffed and looked around, noting that the hall was empty. "I don't see anyone." She said cheekily. This still doesn't get him so she wrapped her hands around his arm and lolled them both to one side. "C'monnnnn." Whined Beverly. Richie stumbled but caught himself with a laugh. "Woah! Jesus alright! You can stop pointing the gun at my head." He takes a step back from her. 

She fills in the space, making her steps loud. "Okay fine!" He cracked, putting his hands beside his head. "I'm fine with getting shot at I just...Sir, I needs my purse. I left it right there"-"Shut up!" She interrupted his southern Belle impression. "I left it in my car." He picked back up, walking while still facing her. He made sure to keep a good distance between the two of them, speeding up when she sped up and slowing down if she had done so. "I have kids." He pleads, still in character, while he tried to open the door to his room. "I swear to god." Beverly groaned, five feet away from him. 

"I love god."

"Richie!"

It takes them a while but they finally make it to the cafeteria. Inside, kids sat listening to music, talking, or eating. Which is the category Eddie fell into because he was nibbling on a bag of Doritos when Beverly and Richie walked in lugging the boombox. When he sees them, his smile faded into a frown and he groaned so hard that Beverly felt it all the way from the entrance. "Hey! There's spaghetti!" Richie expressed, waving at Eddie enthusiastically. "You know Kaspbrak?" Beverly asked as they walked up. "Hell yeah! We're working on that project together in science, you have Amonettes class right?'' Beverly shook her head, Amonette was the AP Environmental science class.

"It's more like I'm working on it." Eddie accused. "You've missed every one of the days we scheduled," Richie argued that he had told Eddie those were bad times for him but Eddie had scheduled them anyway. "Out of all the people in this godforsaken school," He spoke to Bev, words jumbled in with Richies—who was still talking. "This had to be the asshat you were talking about?" Beverly laughed and reached for the unopened debbie cake he'd been clutching, taking it and shrugging at him. Bev learns that Eddie didn't actually hate Richie despite what he let on. It was just the root of all their banter. 

Richie making fun of how short Eddie was and Eddie calling him a dumbass. "But gee Rich," He pestered as they set up his Boomer in the chorus room. "Must be nice knowing the weather before everyone else," Richie told him that the view of Mrs. Kaspbrak wasn't so bad either and Eddie started coughing to hide his smile. "You know I heard your little song the other weekend Eds," Richie said casually while Billy Joel played in the background. "You're a shitty piano player." Eddie, unbothered, holds up a middle finger. "Did you just call me Eds?"-"You heard him singing today?" Beverly questioned, mouth full of cake. Richie shook his head, "Whatever weekend it was that we all had detention. Me and the Clubhousers were listening to you sing." Eddie thinks it's creepy that Richie had been listening to him sing but Beverly was more concerned about how he had heard.

She says as much and he tells her that a magician never reveals his secrets. "What are you doing tonight, Bevvie?" he asked, poking her leg. She swatted at his finger, "Sleeping. It's a school night." Richie blew air through his teeth. "Lame." He teased. "You realize some people actually care about their grades, right?" Eddie nagged. He had been sitting up but now he was on his stomach with his head cradled in his arms. His cheeks were flushed red. "And do you realize that not everyone has a stick up their ass?" Richie mocked in a fairy voice. High pitched and horribly sweet. 

Beverly kicked Richie in the leg. "What else would I be doing?" She asked him. Richie shrugs, "You could be with me. Smoking one of these." He pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket. Holding it up and waving it around. Eddie looked at it and rolled his eyes but Beverly? Beverly just about started foaming at the mouth. "Where did you get that!" She reached for it but he pulled it away. "I have my ways, Lottsa rule-breaking if you get my drift." He winks. Bev smiled wildly and dropped her hand down, palm up.

Richie put the cigarette in her hand and she stuffed it in her bra. "If you smoke cigarettes your lips will turn black and fall off," Eddie mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear. "Yo, Eddie are you okay?" Bev worried, scooting forward. "You don't look so good." Eddie thanks Bev for the compliment. "I'm serious man. Here, let me feel your forehead." She rolled him over so that he was on his back and placed her palm gently on his forehead. He was burning up. "Sicker than a dog." She announced. Eddie groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Shit..." He moans. "C'mon dude lets get you to the infirmary." She helped Eddie to his feet and then motioned for Richie to help too. 

He's walking over when-"Richie." A voice calls out. They all look up and standing in the doorway is the bully from Beverly's second day of school. He's got a nasty smile on his face, looking at Beverly with crazy eyes. "Where the fuck have you been?" The bully swore. Richie rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to face the older boy. "Balls deep inside your mother." He snapped. "Where the fuck have you been, huh Henry?" Richie begins to walk off but not before throwing Bev a look.

He nods towards Eddie who is leaning on Bev. "I got it, Rich." She assured. Richie gives her a thumbs up but then he did something weird. "Two." He mouthed, holding up the peace sign. "A-M." He says without talking. "Two Am?" She mouthed back. Richie nods and then headed out, bumping into Bully and almost knocking him to the ground. "I swear to fucking god, Richie." The blond says, stumbling to his feet and pushing the spectacled boy ahead of him. Beverly can hear Richie's laugh in the air around her as he and the other boy wander away from the chorus room. 

"Who was that?" Beverly asked as she and Eddie began to walk. It was hard because Eddie was leaning pretty hard into Bev and the uneven weight caused them to lose their balance. "Henry Bowers." He whispered weakly. "He didn't tell you he hung with that crowd, huh?"  
\---  
Richie came knocking on her door when the clock struck two. Bev had been biting her nails, knowing that even if he did come It was a bad idea. But her body moves faster than her mind and before she can make a responsible decision, she's got the door opened and is staring at the half-drunk version of Richie Tozier. He's got a plastic bag in one hand and a--holy shit--six-pack of beer in the other. "What the fuck." She said groggily. He wavers on his feet, giggling. "C'mon Marshie." He gulped, holding the bag out to her. Bev, without putting on shoes, takes the bag and follows him out into the hall. 

They walked carefully down the corridor, making sure their footsteps are quiet. When they're out into the lobby, Beverly sees that there was another person. He stood beside the open window, arms folded over his chest. "Who's that?" She whispered at Richie. "That's just Will. Hey, Will!" He greeted quietly. 'Will' waves back weakly. He doesn't seem too enthusiastic. 

"He's cool, don't worry." Without hesitation, Richie hops out of the window. Beverly makes a choking noise to replace the scream that tried to come out. 

He had just jumped out of the second-story window. 

Bev sticks her head out the pane and is surprised to see him floating mid-air and waving at her. She let out a shaky laugh, returning the wave. "You can fly!?" Beverly exclaimed. "Oh god, I wish." He tells her. "That's what Will is here for. Gravity Mutation." He began to spin around and it looks crazy while he's in the air. She turns her attention back to Will, noticing that he hadn't been standing at all but floating. "You can jump too if you want," Will says softly. Beverly suddenly felt a hundred times lighter, her toes lifting up of the ground.

"Holy fuck." She squeaked. It felt like she was on the decline of a roller coaster. Without considering the fact that she had no idea what she was doing, Bev hops out the window. She began to spin out of control, the warm summer wind whipping her in the face. She could hear Richie shouting something, all she could focus on was the fact that she had to puke. Bev kept trying to grab onto something but since she was in the air, the movement only made it worse. "Oh my god!" She yelped through clenched teeth. Richie(who could fly pretty well)catches her by the legs. 

Then, he reached for her shoulders and started pulling her down. The two of them float towards the grass, Richie becoming less graceful when they hit the ground. He wasn't very drunk but she guessed that he might've had a drink or two before making it into the girl's dorm. "How are you so good at that?" She asked him, shaking the chill out of her spine. Richie dropped the six-pack and stretched. "William Byers and I have gone on plenty of escapades together." He tells her that they were best friends in sixth grade but then Will got too cool for him. "Not surprising," Beverly responded. She went over to the plastic bag and goes through it. 

Inside were; matches, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of Farrah Fawcett hair spray. "Do you use hairspray Roadrunner?" She sprayed it and snickered. Richie dropped beside her, back flat in the grass. He reaches up for the hairspray and tells her to hand him the matches. Once he's got it lit, he holds it up towards the sky and then holds down on the hairspray. Beverly marveled as the fire roared through the air. "Homemade flame thrower." He rasped. "We've got three hours, Marsh." Richie slurred. 

He pops a beer out of the pack and holds it up at Bev. "Let's burn the forest down." She takes the beer and then runs after Richie because he had dashed for the woods. They play a version of tag where if you got caught you had to chug a beer. Beverly got caught twice and while she's chugging the second one, Richie is beside her cheering it on. They impale a leaf with a stick and Bev holds it up while Richie roasted it with a flame thrower. "You should've bought marshmallows." She told him, watching the leaf burn and then brittle away. "No, you should've bought marshmallows." He replied drunkenly. 

"Why do I have to do everything?" He tried to walk over to her but tripped over his feet and fell forward into a tree. He grabbed his head and cried out in pain. Throwing Bev a middle finger when she wouldn't stop laughing. "C'mere Marshie." He patted the ground next to him. Richie tells her that he has one more trick up his sleeve. She's sat Indian style beside him, watching as he pulled a knife out of his pocket. "Woah." She giggled. "Whatcha gonna do with that, Roadrunner?" He jerked his hand forward and sliced the tree. 

"We're gonna...mmm...fucking carve this tree." Richie said drunkenly. "Yeah, yeah. Carve." He reaches up to cut the tree again but Bev put her hand on his wrist. "Let me do it. You're a light weight." She takes the knife and begins to carve the 'R'. "It's cause I'm so fucking skinny." He whined, grabbing his stomach. Then Richie burst into a giggle fit. "Oh my god, you wanna know how I lost my virginity?" He slurred, drunk smile on his face. "You did not lose your virginity!" Bev accused, stopping her carving to glare at him.

"No! Yes I did!" Richie insisted, fixing his crooked glasses. "I was in seventh grade and my friend Henry got me invited to this fucking...clubhouse party thing." He goes on to tell her that he had been drinking but the actual girl had been completely wasted. He hadn't wanted to do it but Henry and Belch(Who?)were egging him on and telling him that it would 'make him a man'. "It was weird. Lasted like three minutes and it was all slippery and wet and-Stop laughing!" He shrieked. Bev had just gotten to the '+' but had to stop because she couldn't breathe. "And on top of that—on top of that I remember seeing her graduate at the end of the year." Bev's stomach is starting to hurt, Richie is laughing too. 

He reached up and hugged her. Keeping each other stable while they positively lost their shit. He also told her about how while he was getting undressed, the twelfth grader had started crying because apparently; "I'm way too hot under my glasses to be ugly with them on." Beverly tells him that must've sucked. He shrugged, "It's nothing I haven't heard before. 'Ugly, ugly, Tozier' that's me." Bev pushed him off of her. "You aren't ugly, Richie! I think you're, like, super fucking hot...Or whatever." Richie just stares at her for a moment, his brown eyes glassed over and shining. "Hey Bev," He said. "If we make out right now, will you forget about it in the morning?" Beverly smiled. "Probably." Richie smiled and leaned into her. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, his lips are chapped and rough against her own. 

She weaves her hands in his hair, pulling him back slightly. He was a needy kisser, pushing against her so hard that Bev was afraid he might phase into her. The kiss breaks and the ninth graders can't help but fall into hysterics. Bevs face falling into his neck, jumping with laughter. "God." She choked out. "I'm gonna be wrecked in the morning." Beverly pulled back and put her back against the tree. Richie made a noise of agreement. "Leave with the knowledge that you're a great kisser." He complimented. 

Bev punched him in the arm, smile on her face. She could still taste him on her lips. "So what about you, Bev?" He questioned. "Who was the lucky guy?" It took her a moment to register what he was asking. "What? No lucky guy." Beverly answered. "I've still got my V-card, dude." Richie sighed happily. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that." He says.

"What does that mea-" Something rustled in the leafs near them. Richie isn't worried, assuring her that it was just a squirrel. Beverly repeats the question. Richie groaned and stopped slouching, sitting up as straight as he could. "Well Jesus, Bev." He started. "After all of that bullshit on Wednesday, Patrick's been telling everyone that the reason you did that is because you two slept together and he didn't want you anymore." If there was anything you could say to sober someone up, it was that. "He said what!?" Bev scoffed. 

"And everyone just believed him!?" She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. "I mean, I didn't believe him! I knew he was full of shit the moment he opened his mouth." Richie scratched his head. "The other boys ate that shit up, though." Beverlys world was spinning. "No, no, no!" Beverly cried. Digging fingers into her scalp. "That isn't fair, Richie!" He watches Bev breakdown, unsure what to do. Everything was going too slow, even tears fell down her cheeks in slow motion. 

"It doesn't matter what he says, Marshie." He tried to reassure her. But his words were strung together closely, words falling into each other as he spoke. "As long as you know it didn't happen that's all that matters y'Know?" Richie made several attempts at standing up, finally getting on his feet the fourth try. "Whatever comes to Patrick he deserves it. Nasty, ugly, fucker..." Richie mumbled more insults as he cleaned up their mess, putting the discarded beer bottles in the plastic bag. "I bet the only reason he said that is because Gretta Bowie is the only girl gross enough to give him any play. Everyone knows Patrick has a spotty dick." Beverly chuckled, smiling even though she felt shitty. 

"Maybe I deserve it too, you know?" Her voice sounded far away. "I heard my neighbor fighting with this girl today for banging on the wall but it's been me. I'm the one banging on the wall at night and I didn't say anything." It had been a reasonable degree when the duo had made their way outside, but now Bev was fucking freezing. "I'm a shitty person, Richie. This is just karma." She held her hands out. Palms facing the starry sky. Bev was so drunk, she thought maybe a star would fall from space and she'd be able to catch it. "I've stolen, and lied, and I've hurt people." The tears fall harder the more she spoke and she couldn't stop talking. 

"I mean—the whole fucking reason I'm here is because I tried to run away and I threw a tantrum in the street." She forgot to mention the part where she amputated the middle fingers of an entire crowd. "We all do shitty things." Richie agreed. "But, for what it's worth, I don't think you're a bad person." He reaches his hand down and helps her up. The drunken teens tripped to their feet. Using each other for balance. "You're a badass, Beverly Marsh." Beverly flushed up against him. His drunk, 'won't remember in the morning' words warming her up. 

"I think," Beverly slurred as Will floated the two of them back through the window. "You're a badass too, Richie Tozier." Even with what happens next, Beverly considered that night one of the best in her life. As she turned the knob to get back into her room, a light flashed on her from behind. "It's a little late, isn't it A5?"


	7. Chapter 7: "Now he thinks I'm some disgusting STD bag."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you're saying he knows where I am and he knows I've been looking for him, but he's avoiding me?" Eddie gives her a sympathetic look. Beverly chuckled sadly, she felt like crying. "I bet I know what it is. He probably heard the rumors and now he thinks I'm some disgusting STD bag." That made Eddie laugh and despite herself, Bev laughed too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my little hiatus. I've still been writing, just very slowly. Life gets in the way, you know how it goes. I'm gonna try to start posting regularly again but no promises. I will finish this story tho, i promise. Ive worked too hard to quit now.

If common sense had appeared at all during the last twenty-four hours of Beverly's life, she wouldn't be where she is now. Skipping class in the girls' bathroom, clinging to life by a thread. Paranoia hanging over her head like the smoke from the cigarette she was smoking. She had never skipped class before and it was way easier than she had expected it to be. Like, crazy easy. When people knocked on the stall in between periods she would say; "Uh, taken." And they would walk off. No one interfered( but Bev thinks that's because they could smell the cigarette) and the only reason she got caught is because she had tried to go to lunch.

She couldn't stay in there all day, so she took the chance. Bleeding into the first lunch crowd and keeping her head down. Ms. Amofah had spotted her anyway. Commanding for her to 'come here' with her high, winded voice. Beverly smelt like cigarettes, she knows she smelt like cigarettes because Ms. Amofah had a sour look on her face when she got in reaching distance. Bev felt like she was on the rise of a roller coaster. Not looking down, legs going weak, heart pounding. "The assistant principal has called for you," The older woman stated. That wasn't at all what Bev had been expecting to hear. She cleared her throat and nodded.

"After school? Uh, now?" Bev asked. "Well, they called for you in second period, but it's obvious you were busy." Ms. Amofah elaborated, giving Bev a pointed look. Her head was spinning too fast for this shit. "So I would think now, yes. Grab your lunch first, that way you can eat while you and the vice principal discuss your recent failures." Recent failures? "What the hell does that mean?" Ben asked after she told him. They were standing in line for lunch. "Beats me." She said anxiously. "You'll be okay, Bev." Ben promised. She wanted to believe him but she wasn't sure if she did.

Beverly was sat in front of Mr. Keene, crying silently into her sleeve while he fired her. "The final straw was you skipping classes this morning. Even if Dr. Clarke had fought to keep you, there was absolutely no coming back from that." Bev nodded because what else could she do? It was her fault for being stupid. "There's also talk of changing your schedule so that you'll have Mr. Caige in the morning and Ms. Amofah during fourth period." Bev looked up. "But that'll change my lunch period." Mr. Keene looked unbothered, tapping his ballpoint pen on the desk in a steady manner. The constant tapping sounded like needles in her ears. "I'm aware of that, Beverly." She asks him(in her fake sweet voice)why they were changing her schedule if her classes had nothing to do with why she was fired.

"Well..." He started. Blah blah blah...some girls...blah blah blah...threatened...blah blah blah...rumors....blah blah blah...unsafe...unsafe!? "Unsafe?" She said under her breath, teeth clenched.

"It's all just for your safety and the safety of everyone else." His voice is gravely and 'unsafe'(ha!). He was a wrinkled old man with flat mean eyes and thin paper lips. He didn't seem sympathetic for Bev and her current situation, his voice cold and dry. Mr. Keene obviously didn't care, so why should Bev?  
"Right, you want everyone to be safe." She rolled her eyes. "So rather than dissolve the situation you just put me in another one." He frowns at her. "Be glad we don't do worse. Skipping class right on top of fighting? Chance after chance, Beverly, chance after chance." His scowl runs deep, but her anger ran deeper. The old man sighed, scratching beside his neck. "Do you know what Juniper Hill is?" Quizzed Mr. Keene.

Beverly hesitated—but nodded. Everyone knew about Juniper Hill, the prison they marketed as a school. "A reformatory school for Mutant children who have trouble containing their powers." The tapping of his pen was deafening. "But there is always an option to be sent there if your school behavior here isn't acceptable." He hummed happily. The empty blue sky spilling in through the windows behind him. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Beverly? Because when we layout your record, we see detentions and ISS's and bans. You kept a job for a week and now you're skipping class and smoking in the ladies' room. Just all around reckless behavior, the kind of thing Juniper Hill works to correct." She tried not to show her fear, but she had heard horror stories about that place.

Bev couldn't help but gulp. "I'd hate to see you go, Beverly, truly." She would have fought that man to the end of the earth. But instead, She puts her head down and closes her eyes. Dreaming of stained iron floors, cold echoing walls, and gates that didn't make you feel safe. Like they were trying to keep you in rather than keep the world out. She clenched her fist. "So what are we doing here?" He asked finally, after a long beat of silence. "I guess my schedule is changed," Bev answered, looking up at him to see that he was nodding along with her.

"Am I in trouble about the smoking?" He shrugged. "That depends on you." Finally, the tapping stops and he grips the pen instead, knuckles going white as if he were trying to break the damn thing. "I can get you off without a scratch, though. If you tell me who gave you the cigarettes." Beverly huffed. There was no way. "C'mon now, I'm sure you don't have that much loyalty to this source," Keene suggested, a brittle smile on his face. "I'm the one that got caught, there's no need." She adds, putting a hand on her knee to keep her leg from shaking so hard. "We have other ways of getting the truth." He explained, giving her a look that said; 'This is your last chance'.

When Bev answers him by putting her head down, he picks up the walkie talkie he had on his desk and said into the mic; "Is Denbrough on his break right now?" A static 'yes' came through as an answer. "Can you send him to the front office, then?" And an eternity of awkward silence later, Bill came walking through the door. Him in his clean, red Converses and bright blue t-shirt. "Y-Yes Mr. Kuh-Keene?" He asked nicely, a respectful smile on his face. But then he caught eyes with Beverly, who was twisted around in her seat. She mouths; "What the fuck." And Bill just gulps, regaining his posture. "Bill Denbrough! Glad to see you again my boy, here, come stand next to me." Keene rattled.

"Seems we need a little help getting the truth out of Beverly here."

"Wuh-What did she d-do?"

"Smoking." She answered crisply. She wasn't trying to be mean but it was her way of hiding confusion. Bev thought Bill would see her rudeness and it would throw him off his game, whatever his 'game' was. But instead he held her gaze, and suddenly she feels less hostile and more...calm. Not overly relaxed but calm. At the same time, she still felt aggravated, like the calm was just a blanket over what she was truly feeling. "We need to know who or where she got them from." The old man explained.

Bill nods and again Beverly feels relaxed. It hit her in waves, almost like it was radiating from somewhere. Keene asked her if she had found them, or if they were given to her. "I found them, they were at your moms' house." Beverly laughed at herself. Keene gave her a warning glance. "Is she lying?" Bill furrowed his eyebrows, processing what she had said. "Yes." He said finally.

"You might want to start telling the truth, Beverly." Keene forebode. "Did a teacher or student give them to you?"

"It was your mom."

"Beverly!" Keene boomed. "I don't want to hear an answer like that again, is that understood?" Beverly begged Bill in her mind, get the hint, dumbass, you have to get the hint. The vice-principal repeats the question. "It was a student." She admitted, quietly. Please get the hint. Bill tells Keene that she's telling the truth. But his stuttering voice is a little on edge, maybe he'd understood?

"Is it a boy?" The blue in the sky began to turn grey. "No." Tense, quiet. "Luh-lie." He told. Keenes shadow stained the wall behind her. "She's Luh-lying." Beverly felt so fucking angry. Her breath remained paced and she relaxed in her seat. Something felt...weird. "Do you share any classes with him?"

"No."

"Lie."

"I'm telling the truth."

"N-no yuh-y-you aren't." Bill reprimanded, his gaze unwavering and relentless. Her skin began to crawl. "Does he happen to be in your first period?" Keene continued, leaning forward in his seat. She didn't answer for a moment, focusing on how fucking weird she felt. Angry on the deep inside but also calm, she couldn't shake it. "I'm..." Beverly blinked. "You mean Ms. Amofahs class?" She asked, relaxed smile on her face.

"You know? The teacher that hates the majority of her students, or at least!"-She spoke over Mr. Keene when he objected the 'hate' part.-"The ones that talk a lot." Bill's eyes are blue and oblivious. She felt like a prisoner to her own emotions. Beverly's stomach started to gurgle. "Of course he is! He sits behind me." She said obediently. "She's t-telling the tr-truth." He tells Keene.

Keene stood up and went over to a drawer, flipping through files until he found what Bev guessed was the roster for Ms. Amofahs first period. He reads it and at some point, he laughs. "Not surprising." He said quietly. "Does he wear glasses?" He chuckled to himself. "No." Bev is lying and Bill says as much. "There are only two boys who wear glasses in your homeroom, so tell me. Did Richard Tozier give you the cigarettes?" Beverly takes a deep breath.

"No." Bills' face turns red with realization, his fist clenching at the side where Keene wouldn't notice. "Shuh-she's..." Bill stumbled. The air in the room was thin, Keenes shadow danced around them. "She's telling the tru-truth."  
—-  
"What the fuck." She spewed when her and Bill fled out of the front office. "What the fuck," Beverly repeated, her teeth bared. "Yuh-you're mad," Bill said into his hands. Beverly almost laughed. "Of course I'm fucking mad! How many times have you been his little tell-all, huh? Singing like a goddamn bird over his shoulder." Beverly mocked him. "She's lying, she's telling the truth. You got a lot of nerve especially with all the rule-breaking you do." She rushed down the hall ahead of him. He caught up with her a bit.

"H-hey, I can luh-lie too." Bill deflected. "And I'm n-not his tuh-tell all. It's apart of my w-work." He explained that if someone he worked with came through the office for 'suspicious behavior' he could get them out of trouble. "It didn't seem like that..." Bev sighed, slowing down to walk beside him. "And another thing, how did you make me feel..." The words are on her tongue but she can't materialize them. She uses her hands to gesture what she means. Bill, as oblivious as ever, raised an eyebrow.

"How did you make me feel calm even though I was pissed." He shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't as tall as Richie but his head hung over Bevs, he had about an inch on her. Classic pale skin, brown sugar freckles. Bev was blushing and now, so was Bill. "I'm an   
E-Empath. D-do y-you know wh-what th-those are?" Bev waved her hand, sorta. "I c-can always t-tell what o-others a-are feeling." They caught eyes. "A-and I can ch-change I-it." Bev had to look away because she'd started smiling from the embarrassment.

"That doesn't explain uh...how you can tell when people are lying or not. I thought Empaths couldn't do that." They pass the lunchroom, going into the Lobby and sitting on the couches. Some girl had griped about Beverly taking her 'spot' but Bev hadn't cared until she heard her say; "Fucking slut," under her breath. Either way, here they sat. "S-some can." He assures. "I-I'm s-some." The conversation flowed smoothly, they spoke about everything from the sun to the moon and even when the bell rung and Bill had to go to lunch, Bev still felt like she hadn't gotten enough of him. She was on her break so she decided to go see Eddie, that might be fun.

He hadn't looked so good yesterday but maybe he was doing better now? When she walked into the infirmary, he was sitting up in bed. Still a sickly pale but he had a smile on his face. He was talking to-"Stan?" The two boys snap their heads towards her. Stan, who had been smiling, suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable. His hand shooting up to pull on his ear. "Uh, Hey." He greeted awkwardly, standing up from his crouching position.

"Hey! Where have you been? I haven't seen you since that whole shit with Hockstetter." She walked closer and Stan took a step around her.

"Yeah." It's silent for a while. "Eddie, I'll see you in class," Stan said, leaving before Eddie could respond. Bev watches him go, confused and hurt. "What was his problem?" She asked Eddie who had the same questioning look on his face. "Umm, not sure." He says. "How do you know Stan?" Beverly told him about her and Stans's gum trade. "Yeah, it was our little thing. I think he's avoiding me, though." She tells.

"He basically lives in the laundry Matt and I haven't seen him there since last week." She sat at the edge of Eddie's bed, making him pull his feet up so she could fit. "He does people's laundry, that's why he's always in the laundry Matt," Eddie explained. "And if you haven't seen him, then he is definitely avoiding you," Beverly asked him how he knew for sure. "Because that's his thing, Bev. That's why people have him do their laundry, he can make sure their socks don't get lost in the wash." They sit in silence for a while. The heavy scent of lemon disinfectant making her head spin.

"So you're saying he knows where I am and he knows I've been looking for him, but he's avoiding me?" Eddie gives her a sympathetic look. Beverly chuckled sadly, she felt like crying. "I bet I know what it is. He probably heard the rumors and now he thinks I'm some disgusting STD bag." That made Eddie laugh and despite herself, Bev laughed too. "Nobody actually cares that you uh...with Patrick." He uses his hand to fill in the blank. "The only ones that do are Greta Bowie and her group of bird-brains."

Beverly felt her smile drop. "Eddie do you...do you actually think I did that?" Eddie sensed the change of mood and backed up. "Well- I mean...That's what everyone is saying and it's not like I care." His voice speeds up. "It sorta makes you cool you know? Most people are impressed that you even got with a clubhouser." Beverly just stared at him, her eyebrows drawn in. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and the way the floor vibrated under her as workers buzzed around them. She was hyper-focusing on everything to distract herself from Eddie, who had begun to ramble like an idiot.

Her eyes burned and so did her heart, she couldn't catch a fucking break. No matter what she fucking did, the pen tapped on in her head. "Eddie." She cut him off. He stares at her with his big brown eyes, his squeaky voice trapped in his throat. "It's okay." But it's not, and Bev imagines Bill over her shoulder going; "Luh-lie." She dusted herself off and stood up, giving Eddie a smile that felt plastic on her face. "I gotta go, okay? I'll catch you later, loser." But hanging out with Eddie and his stupid helium voice made Bev feel mad.

The bell was about to ring, Ben usually went Downtown during his break. She could go see him, but then she remembered how busy Ben had gotten lately and then that made her feel mad, too. Bill was in lunch, Richie was MIA and Stan...Well, Stan's name alone made her stomach burn. The hallway was so fucking loud, why were people always talking? Were they talking about her? Were they laughing at her? Bev put her head down and walked faster.

She wanted to go outside but then the bell rings and she has to go to class. Bev barely makes it through the day, her only saving grace was that it was still sunny by the time three forty-five rolled around. So, she found herself outside, lying in the grass using her backpack as a pillow.

he'd gone behind the main building so she'd be shaded a bit. The sun was warm, maybe a little overbearing, but it was nice. Bev liked the way the grass felt on her arms, soft and tickling. She realizes just how long it had been since she was alone.

Beverly and her aunt had been through a lot, moving around like they did. Aunt Shelby couldn't hold down a job and they were always getting kicked out of their apartments. Shelby(bless that woman's heart)wasn't a bad person but she sucked with money and was impulsive as all hell. The two women would splurge entire paychecks one week and then be living in the van again by the next. Bev loved her aunt, but she also loved New York. So when Bev got back from summer camp in July and Aunt Shelby said they were moving in August, Bev did the most rational thing. She packed up her shit and she jumped out the window.

The rest is history. Bev liked her history. It was chaotic and jumbled and most of it was in her shitty handwriting but it was hers, and sitting in the grass with the sun cooking her cheeks, she realized just how much she liked being her.  
Fuck the rumors, fuck Stan, and fuck everybody else. Beverly didn't need them to make her feel happy. She sat up and shook the grass off, going over to the west building to get started on her homework.

Fate was a funny thing, and fate happened to be sitting on her bed when she opened the door. "Hey, Beverly." Myra grinned. She was holding Bev's shoebox(the one with the money in it)while Eleven practiced tying her sneakers in the background. "Hi, Myra," Beverly said behind clenched teeth. "Eleven, why is she in here?" She asked with a Barbie smile painted on her face. Eleven shrugged. "I don't know, she let herself in." Myra laughed at the look on Beverly's face. "Since when did you know English?" Bev chided.

Elle finally got the bunny looped and stood up, her face just as deadpan as ever. "I take speech classes, you mouth breather." She headed for the door. "And now I'm going to hang out with my friends." The slamming noise makes Bev flinch. Myra stood up and let out a laugh. "It's really funny, y'Know." She teased. "Cause you got yourself fired and then you started avoiding me. And then, as if you were trying to mega-fuck me over, you go on to get caught sneaking into your dorm by stupid, fucking Erica Sinclair." Myra says, pacing around the room.

She was still holding the shoe box and that was making Bev nervous. "Like, what the hell were you even doing sneaking into your dorm drunk, at five am? Were you with Patrick Hockstetter again?"

"No! I was with someone else."

"You really get around, huh?"

"It wasn't like that!"-"Shut up." Myra interrupted, putting her hand up. Beverly!s hands started to itch. "Listen, I don't like that fucking sixth grader. She's a pain in my ass. But I think we can help each other, because if you go through with her little plan she won't let you stop." Myra explained how Bev would basically become a traffic monkey. "But I can get you off the hook. A little 'I pull your chain, you pull mine', if you get my drift." Beverly shook her head.

"I'm done pulling chains." She declared. "Get someone else to do your dirty work, House." Myra's green eyes seem to glow radioactive in their sockets. "Brave of you to assume you have a fucking choice." Her voice is stalagmites against Bev's skin. "Now listen, you're gonna go Wednesday night while everyone else is in the auditorium watching that stupid movie and you're going to do everything Erica told you to. But when you get to that twelfth graders dorm, you're gonna give her this." Myra pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and held it out to Bev. She took it, starting to open it but Myra goes; "Hey!" she jumped and looked up. "Don't worry about what it says, Bev. All you need to worry about is making sure you follow all these instructions, cause if you don't..." Myra's body suddenly grew, growing long and twisty in the small dorm room.

It's terrifying, the way her limbs bent and contorted around her. "You'll be sorry." She promised.  
—-  
"Holy shit." Bev said, reaching out and poking Richies cracked glasses. "What happened to you?" Richie snickered, smiling with his busted lip. "You should see the other guy." He tried to wink but his eye was black. Nose bloodied and cheeks painted purple and yellow. "Just kidding, I got my ass beat." He tried to sit up but groaned, going back down. It was later in the afternoon and Bev had been going to see Richie to ask if he could help with her current situation. But when she got to the dorm, all she found was Bill.

He told her that Richie got into a fight during last period and was in the infirmary, now here she was. Smiling at Eddie when he waved at her and sitting beside the beaten up Richie. "Don't let this fool you, Barry got a nasty right hook before he decided to trip me like a little bitch." Richie cracked his knuckles. "Wait, you got into a fight with Barry from math?" Richie nodded in response. "Why?" He explained that Barry had gotten in trouble for something he 'didn't do' and thought that Richie framed him. They share eighth period so Barry had come up to him then. Richie tried to tell Barry that he had no idea what was going on but; "I think I was annoying him because I was using my pirate voice."

Barry started swinging and Richie started swinging too, getting in two good hits before Barry pushed him into a desk and it smashed into his back. Richie fell and Barry started wailing on him. "He's a dumbass, because now they got him for contraband and fighting. I heard their sending him to Juniper Hill." Beverly cursed under her breath. "Yeah, I know. Shits crazy." Someone Bev used to work with came over and offered Richie some water. While he's sipping, Beverly lays down her foundation.

"Uh hey, Rich?" She asked. He put his cup down, wiping the water off his bruised lips. "What's going on, Marshie?" Bev began to explain herself, starting at the point when she had been caught sneaking into her dorm.


	8. Chapter 8, Part one: "Whatchu lookin' at, eh?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev and the other girls watch as she began to scrub. She stopped but only to throw a look over her shoulder, looking at the girls around her and saying; "Whatchu lookin' at, eh? You want somethin' to gossip abou'? I stick my foot up your ass and you gossip bou' dat, yeah? Help me! Bev, you too, dissis your shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! I apologize for my hiatus! It was mainly because I didn't have access to a computer. Its also because this story is discontinued :( lol! I'm just not into IT like I used to be and also because I didn't plan very well :(. There are still 8 chapters and I'm gonna post one a day as an apology. Thank you so much for reading!

Beverly had been caught in front of her door, muddy feet frozen in place. She leaned awkwardly to one side. "Are you drunk?" Erica's voice had said. It was small and high just like any eleven-year-olds but It sounded green and hot on Beverly's ears. "Uh..." She tried, still leaning. "No." Bev lost balance, falling to the side but catching herself on the wall. Erica laughed and took a few steps forward, putting herself in Bev's line of vision. 

She was a fierce thing. Small but mighty, hair twisted and touching her shoulders. She shone her flashlight in Bev's eyes, making her squeeze them tight and look away. "God, you are drunk." Erica Announced. "I could get you for that and being out past curfew. Plus, you tracked mud fucking everywhere." Bev groaned, "Will you get that fucking light out of my eyes? I can't see." Erica repeated the last part("You can't see?")laughing. "Oh, I am so sorry." The sixth-grader stretched her arm up over her head, placing the flashlight closer to Bev's line of vision. "Is this inconvenient for you?" She waved the thing around, giggling at Bev while she hid her face to avoid the flash. Her skin crawled, she flailed her arms out and knocked her hand into the flashlight. 

She didn't hear a thud so she must not have hit it out of Erica's grip. When her eyes settle in the dark, she can see that Erica is in a fighting position. Hands drew into fists close to her sides. She spoke with a growl; "You can't try that Patrick Hockstetter crap with me, fire-girl, the heat won't boil me." Steam lifted out the corners of Erica's mouth. "I am not fire-girl," Bev said, her vision blurred by shapes. "And that is not the only way I can hurt you." Erica's lips stretched into a smile, she brought her hands together in a hushed clap. "Now you're threatening me!? Oh, this is just too easy. You're drunk, out past curfew, and now threatening a hall monitor, you are so royally fucked!"-"Wait-no, that's not fair!" But Erica was too far gone, her fiery words steaming in the air around them.

"Oh no way is it fair, but god is it great for me." She stopped celebrating but her smile was still there, hanging low on her face. "Do you remember your tour guide from the beginning of the year? The twelfth grader, Sacha Rivers?" Beverly's head was spinning. "Well she is in possession of a very important package. We've already straightened out the date and time, the only thing we don't have-" She paused, walking closer to Bev in a slow, sly, fashion. She was like a snake, Bev thought, watching as Erica slinked closer. "-is transportation. Now, I could pay you, because it is a risky job and if you get caught you're going to Juniper Hill without question, but...Why do that when I could keep my money and keep my mouth shut? D'you see what I'm saying? You get that package Wednesday night while everyone else is in the auditorium and I mop up the floor and forget tonight happened." Erica thought for a moment.

"Hey, I'll even let you bring a buddy or something so you don't panic as much. Or, of course, tomorrow morning you find yourself in the principals' office with your tail between your legs." She never had a choice to begin with but Erica says; "Your choice." Anyway.  
—-  
"Not sure if you heard me correctly when I said I got into a fight, lost, and am currently hospitalized," Richie said after the story finished. "I can't be your plus-one if that's what you were thinking."-"Obviously not, dickhead, I just needed to fucking vent." She ran her hands through her hair. "I'm really stressed out, It feels like one thing over the other," Richie grunted in agreement. "I know what you mean, man. I wish I hadn't have dragged you outside last night," Bev shook her head. "It isn't your fault, I knew it was a school night. I'm responsible for my own actions, right? Besides, we both got fucked over." Bev gave Richie a side-eye and then they both broke out into laughter. Richie scratches his cheek, wincing as his fingers ran over a forming bruise. 

"If you're gonna bring someone with you to the Clubhouse you should bring Bill. He dated a tenth grader last year and she snuck him in, like, twice."

"To do what?" Bev asked with an eyebrow raised. Richie chuckled to himself, the memory fogging up his glasses. "It was to"-"M-make her e-ex j-jealous," Bill answered, the two were eating dinner outside. Ben would've been there too, but he was eating lunch with some of the friends he'd made in drama. He'd invited them to sit with him and his 'co-stars' but then he pointed to them and Beverly recognized the redhead. She couldn't have said 'no' quicker. 

Ben promised to see them later and Bev and Bill end up settling behind a group of rowdy seventh graders. "She w-would only k-kiss me i-if he was a-around. If n-not she blew m-me off." Bill was saying. Bev smiled at him. "Oh my god, we should prank her. Like, rig something up in her dorm. It would be funny." Bill finished swallowing the food that was in his mouth and shook his head. "I h-hate h-her, sure, but I'm o-over it now. G-good idea, j-just not against Br-Brooke." Her name flowed smoothly off his tongue. Bev wanted him to say her name like that. The thought put a weird feeling in her stomach. 

A few nights ago she made out with his roommate.

She shook the idea out of her head and asked Bill to continue his story. "Th-that wasn't the w-worst part, though. Ap-p-parently her ex w-was crazy. S-So he c-comes at me w-while Richie and I are in the g-gym and tries to f-fight me. H-he knew about m-my brother s-somehow." Bev asked what happened to his brother. Bill looks down at his hands, smile stumbling on his face. "Uh, w-well. S-Summer few y-years ago, he w-went outside to p-play with this p-paper boat I made him and h-he...a c-car came out of n-nowhere. He h-hadn't seen it." Bill reaches out with a shaky hand, grabbing his fork and using it to stab his food. Beverly's brows turned up, her leg beginning to bounce under the table. "Oh my god, I'm really sorry Bill. I shouldn't have asked." He shrugged, but it looked like something heavy was on his shoulders. "It's f-fine, it's n-not like you kn-knew." Silence overcame them for a moment.

"B-But uh, anyway. H-he comes at m-me so I l-look h-him dead in th-the eyes and s-say; 'you're g-gonna piss y-you're p-pants in-front o-of this whole cr-crowd.'" Bill explained. "What happened next?" She asked, still feeling embarrassed. "W-well, he p-pissed h-his p-pants in fr-front of the wh-wh-whole cr-crowd." Bev laughed, watching as Bills' smile regained its posture. 

A smile poised in such a way that it was almost a smirk. "How the fuck did you manage that?" Bill leaned forward in his seat."it's c-called a psychosomatic r-r-response, we l-learned about it in h-health." Bill explained that the mind has the power to make the body sick. It's the reason why some people throw up when they're stressed or get sick when a loved one dies. "In h-his c-case, th-though," Bill took a bite of his meatloaf before continuing. "P-pissing himself w-with f-fear."  
"Holy shit."  
"Y-Yeah, I-I know."

The conversation flowed on. Since they were in the topic of fights, Bev told Bill about her scuffle towards the end of eighth grade and also about how she got punched in the face when she lived in Ohio. Bill told her about how he and Richie tumbled out in the grass sometimes, throwing spirited punches and endearing kicks. "I-I've known h-him since, l-like, s-seventh gr-grade." He continues fondly. "H-he's been in s-so many fights, it's a w-wonder h-he isn't d-dead yet." Bev laughed, "All those hits are probably the reason he's as dumb as he is." Bill hummed in agreement. "H-he's g-got a w-week of r-room arrest f-for that shit w-with B-Barry and I th-think h-he said two w-w-weeks o-of ISS o-or something." Bev nodded, finishing her food just as the dinner bell rang. Her and Bill walked back to the east building. Cheek to cheek and going over their plan for Wednesday night. Bill has drama practice on that day so he won't be around till late in the afternoon.

"And when you're done?" Bev reimbursed. Gesturing for Bill to finish for her. "W-we m-meet I-in the l-laundry M-Matt." She nodded at his stuttery words. "Why the L-laundry M-Matt by th-the w-way?" He asked, slowing to a stop once they came to the top of the stairs. The part where the boys and girls dorms separated. "It's unassuming." She answered. "And the guy at the desk is pretty chill."  
—-  
Beverly's alarm goes off Tuesday morning. The steady, unforgiving 'beep' shoving her into the start of her day. She's at the sink and suddenly so is a half-sleep Eleven. The girl willing the toothbrush to her hand not realizing she was holding the wrong end. Beverly could've been nice, instead, she watched Elle shove the hard part into her mouth and choke. The redhead coughed out a laugh, falling into hysterics as Eleven began to spit out toothpaste. What used to be awkwardly working around each other was now a traffic jam of laughter and chaos. 

"Let me wear this." Eleven asked, pointing to Bev's denim jacket. "No, because last time I did, you got a stain on the sleeve." She scolded. Eleven rolled her eyes, "Oh fuck off."-"No you fuck off, you can't wear it. Just wear that with a flannel it'll still look cute." Eleven began to stomp off, stopping just at the door because she stepped on something. She reached down and picked it up, turning back to Beverly with a raised eyebrow. "You dropped this." She said, handing Bev a folded piece of lined paper. 'For Bev' the handwriting said. 

"No I didn't, where did you find this?" Elle told her it was just outside of the door like someone had slid it under. Bev went over and sat on her bed, Eleven over her shoulder while she unfolded the note. 'Hey Bev, I wasn't sure how to say this. We both know how much of a pussy I am, but I like you...a lot. When you get this, meet me in my dorm. We can talk about 'us'.' When Bev was done reading she screamed, her cheeks turning bright pink. "Did the note hurt you?" Elle asked, tensing up as Bev hopped up off the bed, dancing around. 

"No, no, it's a love letter, sorta." Bev tried to elaborate but couldn't, the excitement bubbling up until there wasn't even room to think. She hurried up and laced her shoes, rushing out her door and straight into a crowd of girls. All huddled around her dorm, gasping and stepping back when they saw her. Nobody moves for a moment, Bev looking out at the faces of girls and grimacing. "What the fuck." The sound of sloshing water is heard over the whispering. The crowd opens up and in comes Bev's neighbor, a tomboy with short hair and an even shorter temper. She's lugging a bucket of water, a few rags were thrown into it. 

She stops when she sees Bev and swallows hard. "Shit." She said under her breath. "What the fuck is going on?" Bev swore, stepping out into the hallway and slamming the door behind her. The only noise in the hallway is the echo of a bang, it rang out like a gunshot. Bev's neighbor gives her a sad look and when Bev looks up, she sees exactly what the fuss was about. On her door, in bright red spray paint, is the word; "SLUT" The air left her lungs, in turn, they filled with something hot. Something molten, something red. She bit down on her teeth, clenching her fists at her side. The neighbor girl dropped the bucket, squeezing a rag and then slapping her hand on the door. Bev and the other girls watch as she began to scrub. She stopped but only to throw a look over her shoulder, looking at the girls around her and saying; "Whatchu lookin' at, eh? You want somethin' to gossip abou'? I stick my foot up your ass and you gossip bou' dat, yeah? Help me! Bev, you too, dissis your shit." 

The crowd breaks up a little, some going on with their business. But Bev steps up and wrings out a rag, watching as some other girls do too. They all reach up and get to scrubbing. Under the paint, the wood was stained pink and even when all of the bright red was gone, it was obvious what had previously been there. Bev felt a tear on her cheek, she hadn't realized she'd been crying. The tomboy noticed, stepping over and nudging Bev with her shoulder. "Aye, you know somethin'?" She asked. Bev wiped her cheek and shook her head. "Bein a bitch, it go two way." Her accent was heavy with something. 

It sounded like one of the accents from 'Scarface'. "She be a bitch to you, you be a bitch to her." Beverly slouched over, shrugging weakly. "I guess so." She said. tomboy gave Beverly one last smile, picking up the water bucket and walking it carefully back to the showers. Bev took a deep breath, going back in the dorm, and kicking the shit out of the wall. Fists connecting with the flat surface till her knuckles were purple and red. When her hands hurt too bad to punch, she started kicking, her foot crunching against the wall awkwardly.

Her toes smash and she falls to the floor in tears, screaming and wiping away the dribble on her chin. Bev felt a victory overlapping her loss. For even though her hands were beaten up and shaking, she could still hold up a love note and focus on the individual letters that worked together to build it. The letters sloped, but not linked together like Bens. It was actually legible unlike Bills and when realization finally came over Bev, it was half an hour later when she was in the infirmary with an eleventh grader wrapping her bruised hand in bandages. "Come back at lunch." He told her, making sure the wrap was tight. "The healers come in around that time, this is all I can do for right now." She nodded at him, her eyes falling to the empty row of beds beside her. Eddie must've gotten better, she thought. 

"Uh, thanks'" Bev said, stretching her fingers. Her hand hurt like hell now that she thought about it. She watched her fingers absently. They stretched in and then out, in and out, in and out. And she knew. She focuses on that all day. Even when she walks into reading when the bell rang and saw Stanley Uris sitting beside the only empty seat in class. When she sits beside him and he goes stiff as a board, all she can think is in and out, in and out. 

Then her mind went somewhere it shouldn't have and she laughed into her hand, the tiny burst of humor making the day easier. Ben ate his lunch and then he went and sat with Bev as the nurses fucked with her hands. It was called 'healing' but Bev felt like her hands were being cooked. She screamed and when she looked up, her hands were back to normal. "Not a freckle out of place." Ben joked, running his thumb over her knuckle. "Damn skippy." Bev gasped, smiling at the boy beside her. She spends lunch with Bill and it was fucking chaotic. 

They almost got in trouble for throwing food because Bill decided the best thing to do with his spoon would be to use it as a catapult.

And when the school day was over, she found herself in the girls' dorm skipping row A, then row B and just standing at the entrance to C. Not moving or doing anything, just standing and looking. It was like she was teetering on the edge of something. She could be a major bitch right now. Knock on Gretta's door and start throwing punches when it opens. Being a bitch, it goes two ways right? If you act like a bitch, people will treat you like one. Is that what Bev wanted? To be treated like a slut? Like a bitch? No one had told the adults about the spray paint on Beverly's door this morning. 

But they would get involved if there was a fight. It wasn't worth the trouble, she decided as she walks away. Gretta wasn't worth it, especially when a punch isn't the only way you can get revenge. When she walks back past her hall, she swore she could feel the soap on her hands. Ghost fingers with painted nails all clambering over hers to scrub at something red and hot. She could taste the yawn on her tongue and hear a brave foreign accent like a faint whisper in her ear. Her hall suddenly appeared haunted. Occupied by the ghosts of girls who support girls and the slut that shames them all. 

It's a little later and Bev is in the Chorus room, hoping to high heavens that Eddie Kaspbrak would show up soon. 

She had just started to get to know the Chorus teacher, a feathery old woman with eyes as dark as her skin. She was smiling and going on about how anyone can sing even if they don't think they can. "You should be in my class next semester." Mrs. Spinster promised. "I'll teach you how to hold a note, Ms. Marsh, I assure you." The best part was that she was actually considering it. Maybe she would magically become Janet Jackson. She laughs but not at the joke Mrs. Spinster had just made. Eddie came walking through the door around five. He had on his back pack and even though his skin was still sickly warm, he seemed a lot better.

"Sup, Eddie-boy." Bev greeted, holding her hand up for a high five. He smacked her hand and then plopped down Indian style in front of her. "What's up, Bev! I didn't see you at lunch today." Beverly sighed and explained(with as little detail as possible)that her schedule had been changed and now she had B lunch. Eddie said that he was sorry but Bev just shrugged it off. "It wasn't your fault." She assured. "And besides..." She can see Bill's smile in her mind, bright and blinding like a flashlight. "It wasn't all that bad." 

Eddie dropped his stuff and headed for the piano, he sat down on the stool and cracked his knuckles. He reached down and started to play a new tune. "This hurt that I'm holding's getting heavy, but i'mma keep..." He mumbled under his breath, "Smile..." The keys muddled together till there was no melody. "I hate playing the piano." He threw his head back, blinking rapidly. Bev popped her lips. "Good thing you happen to have one get out of jail free card."

"Out of jail and to where?" Eddie inquired, spinning around on his butt to face her. "Funny you should ask, we're going to the infirmary. It's about the thing where you owe me?" Bev smiled. Eddie raises an eyebrow, then, in a moment of realization; "Oh. Oh..." He said, slouching his shoulders. "Crap, uh, yeah I remember." He stood up and so did Beverly, the both of them saying bye to Mrs. Spinster and heading out into the hallway. "Please don't tell me you want anything dumb. I'm not stealing for you." Eddie says, walking ahead of Bev. Eddie always walked fast, didn't matter where they were going or if they had time to waste, he made every step count. 

"Technically it's not stealing."-"Technically!?" He interrupted, his eyes going wide. "It's borrowing because I'm gonna bring it back"-"Bring it back?-What the-What the fuck are you trying to have me get?" They were halfway down the hall, just about at the point where downtown fed into the lobby. Bev licked her lips, "The air freshener." She admits to Eddie whose face was slowly rushing with blood. "The air freshener?" He repeated. "What the fuck?" Beverly laughed, "Shh"ing Eddie between her chuckles. "Stop cussing so loud, you'll get us in trouble." He blew air through his lips, his leg beginning to bounce impatiently. "What do you need the air freshener for anyway?" He asked Bev if she recalled when she nearly gave him an asthma attack with if a few weeks back. 

"Well...it's hard to explain but it's nothing bad! I just need it tomorrow night, then I'll bring it back. Like I said, borrowing." Eddie doesn't look convinced, one hand over his fanny pack protectively. At any moment he was ready to reach in and grab his inhaler. "Eddie, I got fired over your shit." She started. "Fired! It's not like I'm asking you to raid the utilities, all I need is the air freshener." Bev looked at Eddie. His face was squeezed together tight, he was arguing with himself. "And hey, if anything happens I'll take full blame."-"Oh, I know you will," Eddie said strongly, his small lungs making a huge noise.

"Because there's no way in hell I'm doing this unless you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be making more fanfiction, of course, so if you like anything to do with BNHA, keep yer eyes peeled!


	9. Chapter 8, Part two: "Like Siracha without the 'ir'."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God I hope you guys aren't the pricks Evie was sending. It's fucking Sacha! Like Siracha without the 'Ir'." The preteens look at each other skeptically. Without another word, Beverly hands Sacha the note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please dont mind the joe mama joke. This was written months ago and it made me cringe, like oh my gosshhhh thatssounfunny

And Eddie is true to his word. Zooming up to Bev the next afternoon while she waited outside Bills dorm. He handed her his fanny pack and gave her a look that was all-knowing. "I swear to god Beverly." She felt the bag and sure enough, inside was the air freshener. She smiled, hugging Eddie up into her chest. "Thanks, freak." He patted her back awkwardly, pushing her away before the hug was truly over. "Don't mention it. Like seriously, don't. And if anything happens to my fanny pack, you die."

"Oh yeah, no question about that."

"Really? Is it funny Bev? Fuck off." That made her burst and she full-on laughed, but so does Eddie. Rolling his eyes as he walked away. When he's gone, she buckles the fanny pack around her waist and took a deep breath. Bev knocked on the door. When there is no answer she knocks again, a little harder. Richie was on punishment, there was no way he wasn't in his bedroom right now. Why wasn't he answering? 

She knocks for about a minute and then the door swings open. Richie is there, glasses crooked on his nose. A wave of warmth hit Bev in the face as he stepped out. "Beaver, what the hell are you doing knocking like you're the police?" Bev grabbed her nose, walking backward into the middle of the hall. "I- ew, oh my god- were you shitting?" She inquired, fake vomiting. It was a foul smell and the heat wasn't helping. Richie laughed, "Actually, yes I was. What? Does it stink?" He bent over, facing his butt towards Bev and swinging his hands, pushing the smell towards her. 

"Jackass!" Bev kicked his butt, making him stumble forward. He picked himself up with a laugh, walking into his room and nodding for Bev to follow him. She took the air freshener out of the fanny pack and sprayed it on her way in, sparingly so she and Richie didn't suffocate on the smell. "What crawled up your ass and died? Jesus!" She zipped the fanny pack back up and flopped on Richie's bed, minding the mess of papers around it. He plops beside her, poking her in the back as he laid down. Bev kicked her shoes off and shoved her fingers in his side. He made a weird noise, pushing her hand away. 

"Agh-it was Joe," Richie says with a grunt. "Joe?" She must've fallen right into his trap because as soon as she said that, his face was possessed by a shit-eating grin. He brought his hands up and cuffed them around his mouth, whispering; "Joe Mama." Before bursting out into exaggerated, arrogant, laughter. Bev clicked her tongue, reaching out and poking him again. The laughter echoes out and soon it's just the two of them staring up at the ceiling. It isn't comfortable like Bev thought it would be, she was breathing through her nose to avoid the stench and Richie was making noises with his mouth to fill the silence. Like he didn't know how to act when it got quiet. "So, uh." She spoke, her voice getting caught on something in her throat. 

The words fell, stumbled, and crashed out of Bev's mouth. Tripping down to Richie between a jumble of 'Uhs' and 'likes' and any other filler she could use to make this a hundred times more awkward than it had to be. Around all her stuttering, she had asked him if he wrote the note. He says that he had, admitting it with his voice twisted into a corny Irish accent. Beverly felt her chest loosen, saying; "Great! I think I like you too." But that hadn't felt like enough of a sentence. Bev had been gathering her words together for this moment, and now that she was at the finishing line, she hadn't used any of them. Even Richie who's squirrel brain was filled with words, said nothing. 

Not even sucking his teeth, the only sound was him swallowing. "I-' He started. "Uh..." Richie sits up, scrunching his face. "What!?" He's sporting an incredulous smile. Her stomach gurgled. "Bev, hey man, I don't like you like that." Richie caught her eyes, and upon the glance, Richie's smile gets wider. "But what about the letter?" She asked, raising up.

Richie stood and backed away, planting his feet far enough for Bev to see his whole body. He was doing the thing with his hand. "I was shitting with you." He said truthfully. "You were"-"Well, not shitting with you but"- He laughed before trying to continue. His face going red. "Oh wait, no, no, no, no, no. I understand." Bev got on her feet, digging her nails into the palm of her hand. "I get it, you don't have to explain. You're an asshole, but I already knew that." Richie's smile faltered and he reached out, trying to say something but Bev wasn't finished.

"Can't believe I was stupid enough to think I actually liked you. Go to hell." She rushed out of the dorm and Richie followed after her, hanging in the doorway and calling after her. "I was kidding!" He tried. Bev turned the corner and rushed downstairs into the lobby. Hanging left and going into the laundry matt. It was still a bit of a wait before Bill was done with rehearsal but she didn't really want to go anywhere else. At the desk was Stephen, of course, but another boy had pulled a chair up beside him, slouching in it comfortably. The two of them laughing and joking with the tomboy who was leaning over the counter with her feet lifted off the ground.

"Evie-" The boy beside Stephen was saying. The name directed at the girl who was practically planking over the desk. "-Fights are cool or whatever but I'm not backing you up if you get in one." The boy was muscly, a coiled Afro surrounding his head. Pink gums spilled over his teeth, the lazy smile on his face mirrored by his friends. "Some boyfriend you are." Stephen joked, punching him in the shoulder. Evie huffed in agreement. "Yeah! Is a wonder I with his jackass. What happen if we break up? What you do then, huh Lucas?" Beverly walked up and began the process of signing in. 

Stephen slid the clipboard over, still emerged in his friends and their couple banter. Lucas shrugged, "I'd get you back like the charmer that I am." He sat up in his chair, leaning up enough to connect his lips with Evies. Stephen fake barfed. Catching eyes with Bev while he had his fingers down his throat. "Practicing?" She joked, putting her palms on the counter. Stephen laughed nervously, wiping his hand on his shirt. "Something like that. How are you?" She asked for the time and he gave it to her. 

Bev scribbled down on the sign-in sheet. "Just found out I was getting played. I think maybe he just wanted to get in my pants or something." Stephen nodded taking the clipboard back. "Yeah, I've felt that way before," Stephen says sympathetically. "At the first sign of danger she ran. Not even bothering to look back." He reached up and pushed a dread out of his face. "People will care about you, sure, but they will always care about themselves more. At the end of the day, a person will protect themselves. Even if it means dooming others." 

"He didn't doom me," Bev said cooly, noticing how Stephen seemed to stop breathing. "Lucky you." He told her, holding her gaze when she looked up. His eyes were sad, soft brown eyes going muddy. Bev started to say something but Stephen had ignored her, falling easily back into the conversation with Evie and Lucas. Giving her an off glance as she began to walk off. She didn't know much about Stephen but she felt bad for him. He seemed like he had a good heart. Bev sits down in one of the chairs and twiddled her thumbs.

She wished now, that she had brought her backpack. In reading, they had started a Shakespeare unit and Bev had homework she should've been doing. A few boys she shared a class with came down a few minutes later and popped something in the VCR. When she asked what they were watching, he replied; "Tremors." So she watches that instead. Not thinking about anything in particular until the movie is over. Something boy-shaped is coming up behind her. She can see the shadowy silhouette on the floor in front of her. He raises his hands up as if to scare her. Before he can, Bev turns around and stares at him. 

It's Bill, but she had been expecting that. "Sup big Bill." She smiled at his defeated look. He sat beside her. "You s-s-suck. I almost h-had you." Bill complained. Bev shook her head, turning her body more to face him. "I could see your shadow, dummy." Bill laughs and his eyes trail down from her face to her waist where a Fanny pack rested lazily. "Wh-where'd y-you get th-that?" He asked.

"A-and why are y-you w-wearing it in p-public?" Bev found herself posing like Eddie, hands over the bag like she was protecting it. "Stop talking shit about my fanny pack. It's actually really convenient." Bev unzips the thing and pulls out its contents. Three dollars and a can of air freshener. "Wh-why the air fr-freshener?" He asked. "Remember when I made that joke about pranking your ex?" Bill nodded.

"Well, it's for that, just not for her," Bev answered, watching as Bills eyebrows furrowed. "I-if it isn't for her, th-then wh-who are we pr-pranking?" He looks nervous about the whole thing. Bev sensed he was excited also, those were two emotions that walked hand in hand. "Oh, no one." She said slyly. "Do you know the girl on row C? The one who sells tapes?"

—-  
The building is loud before it's quiet. Feet rumbling, ground shaking. Small and big voices alike mingling. And when the final person leaves, their laughs can be heard from outside. Bill and Beverly weren't the only people who weren't going, of course. Light shone from the bottom of many dorm rooms, but that was the only light there was. Everything else was black. 

The bruised sky shone through the window, casting the shadow of two crouched figures. Both in their socks, creeping down Row C. The floor creaked louder under Beverly's feet since she was heavier than Bill, she combatted that by going slower. Bill, however, was quick and quiet. Making it in front of Gretta's dorm before Bev. Her heart was racing as she pulled the Bobby pin out of her hair. She gave Bill one last look and he nodded, affirming that she was okay and that she could do this. 

Looking at him made her feel very brave. She thinks this whole thing would've been harder if it had been someone else besides Bill. Beverly reached up and got to work, messing up a little and having to take the bobby pin out, breathe, and start over. The lock clicks and the door opened with a low whine. Bill is smiling at her, she can see it out of the corner of her eye. She laughed shakily. "N-now what?" He whispers. Beverly opens the fanny pack, taking out the air freshener and pressing down hard. 

She had sprayed so much that she could see it fogging up the room. Bill stifled a cough as it came up. Beverly has the same problem, actually losing the battle and going into a mini coughing fit. When the smell gets to be unbearable Bev stops and puts it back in the bag. Re-locking the door and closing it, her and Bill making the hard journey back into the main hall. As soon as they're there, Bev let's out a breath she'd been holding. Bill laughed and the giggles faded into coughs. 

Looking at him made her want to laugh too. But for some reason as soon as she tried to laugh, she began to fucking wheeze. The two of them, racing down the stairs laughing and coughing and laughing again. It must've looked weird to anybody that was watching. Even weirder was two ninth-graders walking across the lot in the aftermath of a sunset in their socks. Bill broke out into a sprint and Beverly ran to catch up with him. They stop a few feet in front of the west building, Bill resting himself on his knees to catch his breath. 

Bev was in the same position beside him, the air around them heavy and flustered. His face was bloody red, falling onto his back with a huffy-grunt. Beverly watched him admirably. Bill with his baby-bright smile. Bill and his frosty, November skin. Beverly used to think that Bill had a contagious smile. She realizes now, as she flops to her back beside him, that it was Bill's entire person that was contagious. 

Just being around him made her feel content. They sit for a while, resting, not saying much. The stars blink at them, butterfly kisses, the kind that sparkle stardust on your cheeks. And Bev remembers what it's like to float. Like she had just jumped out of a another second-story window. Landing from one 'What the fuck am I doing?' situation to the next. "H-hey, y-you know wh-What?" Bill gasped. 

"What?" She asked breathlessly. "I c-could've g-gone for fr-free to see the m-movie tonight. B-but I'm gl-glad I didn't. Th-this is better, b-being here w-with you is b-better." His fingers brush over hers. The moment was perfect, if she reached out she would touch his face. Her mouth opened and closed several times, she didn't know what to say. Bev was confused. "I'd rather be in the auditorium, actually." She gulped. 

"I mean." She chuckled dryly, looking up at the sky. "This could go so bad so fast and we don't even know what we're doing." She pushes to her feet, dusting herself off. Bill behind her sits up. "B-But d-don't y-you"-"Don't I what?" Her voice is harsh and cold. She threw a mean look over her shoulder at Bill, who looked more like Ben at that moment. It was almost a parallel to what happened in the gas station. Ben reaching his hand out for her to take and Bev putting the gum in her pocket instead.

"N-nothing I g-guess." She laughed at his nervousness and began walking towards the clubhouse. "Jeez, Bill, stop acting so weird." He caught up with her, his eyes trained to the ground as they walk. "Y-Yeah...haha." Bill scratched his neck. "W-we c-can't g-go in through that d-door." He hopped off the concrete into the grass. "Wait, why not?" She clamored after him as they walked around the side of the building. Bill taught her that the layout in the west building was different than its east counterpart. Management offices were on the first floor to make more room for the dorms upstairs. 

That meant if they just went through the front door, they'd be caught. "B-But th-there w-was a f-fuck up I-in c-construction o-of th-this place b-back in th-the s-seventies." He stops at a weirdly placed window. Pressing his ear to it, waiting...Bill grins and placed his palms on the glass, lifting up. It came open with a creak and when he was sure no one had heard them, he raised his body upon the sill and pulled through, climbing onto something from inside the building. Bev walked forward and watched with a smile as he threw his hand down to wave at her. 

A long time ago, when David Bowie and alcohol was all a kid needed to think they were a god, someone had found out that there was a window that fed in below the stairs. And if you were small enough(and had the appropriate upper body strength, as Bev finds out)you could squeeze between the wall and the rails, lift yourself up, and sneak into the building. So that's what they do. Bev planted her feet carefully on the stairs next to Bill. She looks around. It was almost identical to the East building just more spacious. They also had a tv in their lounge which was unfair. Bill maneuvered his body back down the squeeze and pushed the window closed with his foot.

When he was back, he taught Bev another trick. The stairs closest to the railing didn't creak at all. It was the sturdiest part of the Well and Bill demonstrates its quietness by clinging to it and making his way to the top. Bev followed behind him. They could hear muffled laughter from where they stood. Adrenaline began to pump. "Wh-What gr-grade are th-they in?" Bill whispered. Beverly took the note out of her pocket and said, "Uh, twelfth." Bill's eyes snapped around.

He thought for a moment and then led her left towards the laughter. "Th-the tw-twelfth gr-graders b-basically get their own m-mini apartments. Their d-dorms are h-huge." The floor moaned under them. Laughing turned into giggling from the only dorm with its lights on at the back of the hall. They crept forward. As they got closer, Bill turned to Bev and asked what the girls' name was. She could hardly hear him over her own heartbeat."Bev! What's her name?" She snapped out of it. "Uh...Sacha."  
"Sasha?"

He knocks on the door and the giggling stops. "No, it's Sacha." Bill and Bev straighten up and when the door opens, the nervousness they were feeling multiplied by ten. Bev was so anxious that she felt almost light-headed. There, standing in the doorway, was none other than catgirl. Exactly five ft tall and mean as all hell. She looked Bill and Bev up and down, both eyebrows raised like she couldn't just do the one. "A-are you Sasha?" Bill said. Beverly cringed

"Oh my fucking god, did you hear him, Billy? Am I Sasha!?" She jeered, an evil smile on her face. Teasing laughter in the air. 'Billy' somewhere from in the room laughed with a deep voice. Beverly was just now noticing that Sacha was half-dressed. What the fuck had they just walked in on? "God I hope you guys aren't the pricks Evie was sending. It's fucking Sacha! Like Siracha without the 'Ir'." The preteens look at each other skeptically. Without another word, Beverly hands Sacha the note. 

The twelfth-grader read it, stone-colored eyes judging the page. It took her a moment, but she sighed. Sacha looked Bev dead in the eye and closed the door. "What the fuck." Bev cursed under her breath. "S-so what d-do w-we do now?" He asked Bev, not sparing her a look. Bill had his eyes on the door as if he were willing it to re-open. "Sh-should we j-just l-leave then?" Bill asked. Bev goes to answer but then the door opens and it's Sacha again, this time holding a shoebox. 

Her ears twitched irritably on her head. "Word of warning, dipshits." She held it out for them to take and Bev did. It was really fucking heavy. "Do not open the box." Sacha halfway closed the door and opened it again, her eyes were cold and serious. "Fucking seriously, don't open it." And the door is shut. The light goes off. Beverly and Bill stand in the dark for a moment. "Well." She said out loud. "Let's go, I guess." It was trickier to get out then it had been to get in. 

Beverly went out first with Bill's help. She fell awkwardly, hitting her hip on part of the wall. "B-Bev? Hey m-man relax, y-you're okay, you a-aren't st-stuck. J-just open th-the w-window." Bill's voice assured her. He held the box as he gave instructions. Despite the pain in her side, Beverly reached her hand down and raised the window. It got caught on her shirt and she felt the early October wind on her exposed stomach. She grunted and pushed herself out, Bill, behind her, kept rooting her on. 

"Good, good. K-keep g-going, t-turn y-your body a l-little—th-there you go." She slid onto the grass and took a deep breath. Beverly prayed she never had to come through that window again. Bill dropped the box down to her and then came out himself. Much quicker and easier than she had. When their both out, shivering from the breeze and shaking from the adrenaline, Bev looks up and smiles. "Siracha without the 'ir'." She repeated. For some reason it's the funniest shit they've ever heard and they spend awhile in the grass laughing. 

Then they climb to their feet and started towards the East building. The next part of the plan was to drop the box by the Management office and then wait in the lounge for Ben to come back so they could tell him about how it went and Bev had already decided that she was gonna cut out the part about fucking up her hip on the way down. They were halfway there when Bills' foot started to itch so he bent down to take his socks off. As he did so, Beverly heard muffled noises from behind the East building. Bill apparently heard it too because his ears perked up. Laughing, that was definitely the sound of a laugh. 

Shuffling noises, they were hearing more the closer they got. They stood, bodies pressed against the cold brick of the clubhouse, listening. A lone owl cooed in the distance. There was a scream but it sounded like it was underwater. "Help!" A voice screeched out. "Help me! Help-" Beverly tried to rush around the corner but Bill grabbed her shirt. 'No' he mouthed to her. 

"What do you mean no!?" She whispered aggressively. More laughing as the call for help died out. Underwater cries continued."Th-that's a f-fight we a-aren't g-gonna win." He promised. Bev scoffed and turned but Bill has his hand around her arm. He didn't squeeze but it was enough to make her look back. "I-it's Patrick H-Hockstetter." He gulped. Beverly's skin went pale.

"H-Henry B-Bowers, t-too. P-possession"-someone just got punched. Bills grip got tighter.-"N-not just th-them. B-Belch Higgins, h-he's a disperser. D-do y-you know wh-what a d-disperser is?" And Beverly nodded because she did know. She also knew that Bill was right, that was a fight they couldn't win. "What if we stay around here?" She whispered. "Hold him up, Belch! H-holy shit, look at how much his nose is bleeding!" The laugh that rang out made a chill run up her spine. "What if we-we stay hidden, Bill listen! If we just stay right here around the corner, I can focus on their laughing. I can make them hurt." She begged. Bill's breathing was tight. 

He didn't seem against the plan so much worried about what Bev meant by 'hurt'. She realized blankly that Bill knew about what happened in the laundry room. Another punch was thrown and Bev could almost feel it. She balled her fists up. "We make them piss their pants," Beverly added, her fingers already starting to tingle. If Bill was against the plan in the beginning, he was all for it now as he finally relaxed his hold on her arm. Giving her a nod and a look that made her feel impossibly brave. Focus in Beverly. That's a laugh, focus on that one specifically. 

You've got it. She closed her eyes. You've got it.

It started off as an audible wince. One razor cutting over your skin won't hurt that much. The second one won't hurt either but you'll definitely notice it. Over the laughter there's now something else, someone is yelling. A third cut, she traced the line in her head. The laughing is over. Now it's a chorus of screaming. 

It's quiet for a moment. Four, she took a breath in. The screaming began again. Then there was a sound like cracking. Not the crack of bones but a whip crack, almost. Whatever is happening over there, Bill and Bev aren't doing it anymore. Someone just flew through the air, they heard as he hit the grass. 

Another scream, another thud. 

Then, Henry Bowers himself, bruised and bloodied, came soaring past them. He had been launched in their direction, hitting the ground and then sliding forward. He made an attempt to get up but a vine sprouted from the ground near him. "Stop!" Henry struggled as the vine began to wrap around his body, constricting him. Then, as if it were some sick joke, the two ends of the vine came together and tied a bow on top. Bev almost laughed. They hear footsteps coming from behind the building. 

Beverly's body began to tense up. She braced herself for a fight but the person who comes around the corner looks like he would fall over flat if someone blew air in his direction. There was blood spattered on his face and clothes, his skin was splotchy in some areas. Like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be brown or green. It settled on brown as the green faded out. He looked over to Bill and Bev and screamed. They did the same, Bill surprising her with his girlish yelp. 

"Who are you?" He asked defensively, obviously thrown off by Bill the same way Bev was. "The people who just saved your ass." Then she looked at Henry Bowers, still wriggling. "Or who helped, you did most of the work it looks like." She offered him a smile. He looks like he's too shaken up to do anything. "This is Bill, yeah?" Beverly got to her feet, Bill followed. The kid steps back. Now that he had, his face was illuminated by the street lamps. 

His features were caked under blood and dirt and was that—soda? But his eyes were opened wide and Beverly found herself drawn to them. "Y-Yeah! I'm B-Bill. W-we know e-each other, right, Mike?" He asked. 'Mike' wrapped his arms around himself, nodding hesitantly. "Mike? Hi, I'm Beverly. And I'm sure this looks really fucking weird, us being out here at the exact same time you were getting jumped but it's for good reason."

"And what reason is that?" Mike prodded. "Buying shoes?" He eyed the shoebox. Bill was about to start stuttering so Beverly spoke over him. "Not buying them. My sister had borrowed them and wouldn't bring them back." It was bullshit. Mike looked like he knew it was bullshit but he also looked too tired to care. "Okay, great." There's a moment of silence. "Uhm, goodnight I guess." He went to take a step and fell.

Beverly and Bill rushed to his side. Helping him up. He protested at first but it was too late, they already had him supported. "I'm-" Mike stumbled with his words. "I'm so sorry." He whispered. His voice sounded like he was about to cry. The concrete is cold under their feet. 

Mike is missing a shoe, covered in blood(sprite too for some reason), and shivering. Bill and Beverly caught eyes. They gave each other a look that spoke louder than anything they'd said that night. They were fucked and they knew it. "Wh-which one is y-your d-dorm?" Bill asked as they helped Mike up the stairs. He grunted with each step. He was hurt worse than they'd originally thought, favoring his left side heavily. 

"E21." Mike gasped as they walked. Fuck that was so far. Heres a fact; Life is a bitch. Bev had known this fact prior to tonight but it continued to remind her anyway. Sometimes it was in small ways like getting fired from a job you kept for a week. Sometimes it was finding out that someone isn't who you thought they were. Other times, however, it was knocking on the door of E21 and Stanley Uris being the one at the other end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of the first part! We finally meet Mike! I promise from this part forward he has a huge role in the story. I Never forgot about him, in fact, you might find that he was in the first part all along?


	10. Chapter 1: "Double dutched his way right into Henry Bowers."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie snapped his head in Stan's direction. "Jumped!?" He swallowed. "Like...Beat up?" Stan gave him a flat look. The teacher cleared his throat, closing the door. "Playing jump rope, Eddie. He double dutched his way right into Henry Bowers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins part two!

Part 2  
Stanley Uris Wants Another.

When Stanley Uris started his second year at the Jean Grey School of Higher learning, things had seemed promising. Prosperous, even. He was roomed with Mike again, had a steady income, and his grades were way better than they had been in eighth grade(not including social studies). Indeed, his life was looking up. Now the only thing he was looking up at was his bloody best friend. Beside him were two people Stan could've gone his whole life never meeting. "You're kidding me." Beverly Marsh says. She's in tattered pajamas with a fanny pack around her waist, her arms and hands smudged with dirt. "What the fuck," Stan asked Mike, ignoring the ring of Beverly's voice.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck."

"Stan." Mike tried. "Put him down, what the fuck did you do to him?" Stanley raved. Bill is stuttering in his ear as he tried to take Mike from him. Mike grunted, he was too heavy for Stan and they both knew it. "Hey! Be careful with his side, man. He's really hurt." Beverly warned. Brave of her, assuming she could waltz up in the place with his beat-up roommate and start handing out advice.

"Good observation. The sky is also blue if you didn't notice." He helps Mike down on his bed, the boy grabbed at his side with a yelp. Stan looked up and furrows his eyebrows, "Oh no, no, no, what do you think you're doing?" Bill had just taken a step into the room, he paused at Stans words, looking at him like he were the one who had just arrived with a zombie covered in soda. "Stan!" Mike was saying. "You aren't coming in here, neither of you." Mike was talking too, reaching up weakly with his hand. "They helped me. Stan, they helped me."-"And you both look like you just crawled through a fucking trench and you!" He pointed a finger at Beverly. "Why the hell are you wearing Eddie Kaspbraks fanny pack? What? Did you beat him up, too?"-"Stan!" Mike broke out, coughing painfully. He reaches down and placed his hands around Mike's shoulders, feeling helpless as his friend writhed in pain.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Bev asked, her face scrunched up. "Look at him. Do you think he wants to hear you bitch right now?"

Stan eyed her defensively. Then Mike's hand is on his arm, his soft palm saying everything it needed to. She sighed, throwing her head back. "I'm gonna go get a wet rag, Bill?" She nodded for him to follow her. Bill looked from Stan to Bev, then he laid his hand on Beverly's shoulder and offered her a smile. "Br-bring a t-towel, t-too." He told her. Bev swatted his hand away and walked off. Then it was just them.

Stan glares at Bill as he took a step forward. Then another one. With one more step he would be completely in the room. "Just come in, dipshit," Stan said irritably. He ran his thumb along Mikes's cheek, wiping away some of the blood, some of it had crusted over. He was shivering cold. "Do you mind getting your comforter dirty?" He asked Mike.

"I'll wash it tomorrow but you just..." He didn't like seeing Mike like this. "I don't mind." Mike whispered, teeth clattering. "I-i'll"-"No. Just stay there." Mike grunted in disapproval. Stan raised his head and looked at Bill. He was holding an Adidas box, cradling it like a baby. He wished that he had gone to the auditorium with Mike. Stan doesn't like big crowds but he would've suffered through the anxiety if it meant Bill Denbrough wouldn't be standing in his dorm right now.

"You gonna twiddle your thumbs all night, or what? Help me lift him." Bill directed Mike to put his arms around his neck and hold on tight. Bill locked his hands behind Mike's back and lifted. While he struggled to keep Mike raised, Stan pulled back the blanket and sheet. He lowered him back down carefully. Stan took his one shoe and sock off, pulling the comforter over his friend. Mike snuggled into the pillow. "I-it was B-bowers," Bill said. "I bet it was." He replied flatly. Of course it was Bowers, who else would've done this?

Beverly was back, pushing the door open with her elbow because her hands were occupied. She handed Stan the wet rag and traded Bill the towel for the Adidas, sitting cross-legged on the floor with it in her lap. Stan felt the rag. It was soft and warm between his fingers. He laid it on Mike's forehead. "How does that feel? Is this okay?" Mike nodded weakly. And so began the process of cleaning his face.

A shiver ran through the room. "Is he gonna be okay?" Beverly asked softly. She sounded like she didn't want to argue. Stan gave up, relaxing his shoulders and answering her. "Yes. He can heal himself, it'll just take a few hours." Bill nodded understandably. Mike's bruised lips were visible now. "What's in the box?"  
"Shoes." Bill and Bev say in unison. "Yeah right." Stan antagonized them. He began to clean Mikes neck. The rag looked disgusting. "I don't care actually." He said, breathlessly. The building began to shake. The drum of footsteps rattling under them. The movie must've just ended.

"We should"-"You should," They spoke over each other awkwardly.

"G-go. We sh-should go." Bill spoke for them, laying the towel against Mikes's legs. He and Bev stumble to their feet, the box shifted so the weight was on both of them. People were coming up the stairs now. Outside, the hall lights turned on. "Bye St-Stan." Bill said, holding the door open for Bev who left without saying bye. "Bye." The door closes, the building settles. For the first time in half an hour, Stan exhales.

He had been holding his breath waiting for them to leave. Mike was out cold, although his cheek was warm and soft. The bruise on his jaw battled against Mikes's mutation. It was purple but green sprouted from his skin in patches. He shifts uncomfortably in his sleep. The bruise took one last fighting breath—green and then ebony, very quickly. The bruise was gone. Mike would be okay. Stan wiped his hands on the towel and turned the light off.   
—-  
"You were an asshole last night."

"When am I not an asshole?"

"Yeah, but you're usually just a regular asshole." Mike stretches out of bed. Most days Stan got up before his roommate, getting ready in the dark of dawn. Mike would tease Stan about having night vision and that wasn't far from the truth. "Last night you were rude as all hell." He turned on the light and headed over to his closet. Stan buttoned up his polo shirt. "Mega asshole." Mike yawned. "Huge." Stan sighed. "I'm not apologizing." He says, lacing up his shoes.

"I know you aren't." Mike peers into his wardrobe, pulling out a sweater. He flashes it toward Stan for approval. Stan nods. "I'll apologize to you." Says Stan. "Just not to Denbrough and his girlfriend." Mike is dressed now. He moved past Stan into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Stan leans against the doorway, loitering over Mike's shoulder.

"Don't tell me you were just blown away by their stunning act of 'heroism." Stan prodded. His friend rolls his eyes. "Why were their clothes all fucked up? Why didn't Bill have any shoes? Why was Beverly wearing Eddies' fanny pack?" Mike turned on the faucet, drowning Stan's questions under the water. "It doesn't matter, Stanley! All that matters is that they were there when I needed help." Stan goes to object. "You weren't." The faucet cuts off. "I would've been bat food if it weren't for Bev and Bill and they helped me and you repaid them by being an asshole." Mike looks tall in the cramped bathroom. Brown eyes shaded with seriousness  
.  
The bags under his eyes told of a boy who didn't sleep enough but the honey undertones of his cheeks told differently. "Can this conversation be over? I've already said all I had to." Stan leaned back into the space of their room. "I'm sorry, seriously. I wasn't thinking logically." His friend's firm exterior turns to jello. "Alright, man. Conversation complete, you ready?" Mike opens the door, letting in the off-rhythm beat of shoes hitting the ground. Stan smiled. "Always." Not once in his fucking life. They disappear into the herd and reappear later at the cafeteria. Mike patted Stan's shoulder and headed in, leaving Stan to wander upstairs on his own. 

They used to eat breakfast together in the library until last week when some perv got caught masturbating behind the bookshelves. Now the library didn't open till after eight and Stan would rather wait till lunch then eat in the cafeteria. He lounges at the top of the stairs, getting out his reading homework and going over it. It had taken him so long to do because of how fucking boring it was. Even to Stan, who had the taste of an eighty-year-old. "Fucking Shakespeare..." He mumbled. The bell rings and he's suddenly in class.

Beverly walks in and waves at him, he waves back. 

Stan crashes into third period with so much force that he caught the attention of the teacher. He'd been walking so fast that he accidentally tripped. "Are you alright...Stanley?" Coach Aurm asked, eyebrows turned up. The other kids were staring at him. "Yeah, sorry." He dusted himself off and sat down in his seat. Eddie came in just behind him, carrying a few biology books.

He seemed more flustered than usual. "Hey, Stan." He greeted casually, setting his stuff down. "Hey. Enjoy the movie?" His eyes trail down Eddie's torso. He was wearing a baby blue shirt with a smiley face on the front, clinging to his waist was his fanny pack. Eddie nodded. "Sure, it was okay I guess. Didn't see Mike." He opened his backpack and dug around for his health folder. "Yeah, Mike got jumped last night." Stan hadn't meant to say it so dryly.

Eddie snapped his head in Stan's direction. "Jumped!?" He swallowed. "Like...Beat up?" Stan gave him a flat look. The teacher cleared his throat, closing the door. "Playing jump rope, Eddie. He double dutched his way right into Henry Bowers." Class starts. At lunch, he and Mike shack up in the library. Stan was helping Mike study for the science test coming up. Studying had become a regular thing for the two as of late.

Mike, who's last report card had been a dumpster fire, was doing better for it. Acing his last two tests. Back to back eighties(it was a start). They weren't feeling it today, unable to get into the studying mood. "What are the Abiotic factors of an ecosystem?" Stan quizzed, holding up the flashcard. Mike chewed his cheek, "The living factors." Stan sighed. "That's the Biotic factors." Mike threw his head back and groaned. "Stop getting them mixed up." Mike groaned louder.

Stan threw the flashcards at Mike, stretching. "We could just do this in the afternoon, man. If I hear the word 'symbiosis' one more time, I'm gonna die from boredom." He stared out the library window, watching the clouds get angry at the sight of the sun. "Agreed." Mike coughed, cleaning up his cards and putting them away. "My nose is all stuffed up," he said, rubbing his nose. "Are you okay?" Stan asked, taking a swig from his water bottle. Mike nodded, wiping his hand on his sweater grossly. "I'm fine, I think. You know how I get." Stan nodded, remembering back in April when Mike had broken his leg playing football(nasty tackle). In an act so stupid it could only be perpetrated by teenage boys, they hid Mike up in their dorm.

Convinced they would get in trouble if they took him to the infirmary. Everything was fine, obviously, but Mike had gotten a fever from having to heal a broken bone by himself. Stan feels Mikes' forehead and his temperature seemed fine. "I think you're okay for right now," he said. Mike nods, twiddling his fingers. Stan watched him, his eyes were stormy and deep in thought. "Mike?" He started, catching his friends' attention and bringing him back from whatever planet he was visiting. "What...What did happen last night?" Mike sat up, furrowing his eyebrows.

"You don't have to"-"No I just..." He rubbed his forehead, coughing again. "I couldn't remember what happened for a moment." He chuckled. It'd been mid-movie, Mike had gotten caught at the back of the line so he ended up getting seated in a rowdy area. Teachers had pulled almost twenty kids out of the auditorium(the peeved principle had said that morning over the inter comm)and all of them had been around Mike. "I would've sat with Eddie but I couldn't see him." He explained. Then, of course, Henry Bowers had started kicking Mikes' seat. "Trying to get a rise out of me." But Mike was usually a pacifist, taking all available routes before violence.

Which meant-"No." Stan caught on, looking to Mike sympathetically. Mike laughed, nodding, Mike had turned around, all in good intentions, and asked Henry to stop kicking his chair. Henry practically squawked at him, kicking harder to the point where Mikes's seat was vibrating. Mike was a pacifist but he was no pushover. He stood up-"Mike, no."-turned around-"You're kidding me!"-and dumped his soda all over Bowers and his gang. Stan couldn't help but laugh, albeit nervously. If Stan had felt Mikes's cheeks, he'd have felt how hot they were.

"Death wish!" He exasperated, smile sat happily on his cheeks. Outside, the rain poured. "No, but then Henry took his drink and like-pushed it into my chest." The soda soaked on his shirt. "Then he and Belch grabbed me and dragged me outside. Y-you know how there are like, those fucking stairs in the back of the main building? They fucked my foot up on that, I think that's where my shoe is." Thunder boomed. "Shit, I forgot about your shoe! Wasn't it those new Nikes? The ones your uncle sent you?" Stan pointed it out painfully, laughing at Mikes's sour look. "Yes, Stanley, it was," He pouted. "I was hoping you would help me look for it." The sky replied harshly.

Stan winced, "Today?" He asked incredulously. Mike whined our Stan's name. He cackled. "Do you know where it is? Can you see it?" Stan blinked. "Do I see it? The shoe?" Mike cocked his head. "The ones you wouldn't let me touch-" Realization crosses Mike's features. "-Because you didn't want them getting smudged?" Mike groaned in time with a crack of lightning.  
"Fuck."  
—-

tanley had tried explaining his Mutation to his dad once. Back when his mom was around and he had a normal, if testy, household. "Feels like I'm floating up towards something but I have, like, a chain anchored to my body." He'd said, talking to his hands as his dad watched him carefully. The chain grew as Stan did. When he was eight he could see his dad placing Christmas presents under the tree from his bedroom. When he was nine, he could see his mom across the street at Ms. Kathy's house during book club. When he was ten, he saw his mom from across town, kissing Ms. Kathy in the way you kiss your husband.

It was different now, over time he stopped floating and started swimming. Drowning if he looked for something too long. He could only find something if he had come in contact with it. That meant if he and Mike were gonna look for the other shoe, they'd have to do it without a map and they weren't doing anything today because it was thundering. Stan, true to his word, bundled up Mikes's bedding and started heading for the laundromat. "Do you want to come?" He asked Mike who was just about to start playing his guitar. Mike smiles lovingly. "Take that as a 'no" Said Stan. 

The laundry room was emptier than usual, Stephen practically snoozing at the counter.

Stan hit the desk. "Wake up, Stevie." He greeted, not bothering to sign in. "Stanley, you are the bane of my existence." He stirred, taking the clipboard and writing Stan's name down. They had history, the two boys. History with the name; Eddie Kaspbrak who, presently, was lending out his Fanny pack to girls who start forest fires. "Did you do something to Beverly Marsh?" Stephen dug, leaning over the counter. Like what, Stan asks. "I'm not sure. She came in here yesterday and she had said..." Stan stared at him blankly.

"Never mind. You don't seem like her type." Stephen jeered. Stan scoffed, "Her type?" He loaded the blankets in the washer. "Beverly Marsh isn't my type, I'll have you know." Stephen laughed, spinning around in his chair. "What is your type, Stan? Grandmas who watch cable Tv and do word puzzles all day?"-"Bite me." Said Stan, words stale. "Bite yourself, you have no type." Stan rolled his eyes. The boy behind the counter started rummaging for something. "I have something for you if you give me a minute." He grunted, pulling a crate out from the bottom.

"Holy shit," Stan peered over the counter.  
"Did a dumpster explode in your office?" Stephen mocked Stans laugh, pulling a deflated rubber turtle from the crate. He held it up by what used to be its head. "It's like a rats nest!" He mused, looking at the overflowing mess. "Fuck off, Stan." Footsteps echoed in the distance. "You're a rat!" He determined. "Fuck Off!" At the desk, someone cleared their throat.

Stephen muffled a greeting at the sound of a voice, taking out piles of paper. "God, what the fuck." He grimaced at the mess Stephen was making behind the counter. "My thoughts exactly, Lucas. How's it going?" Lucas reached out for a fist bump. Stan hesitated but then saw Lucas' carefree smile. Their knuckles clink against each other. "Wassup Stan? I'm good. My sister is sick, though." Stephen, from below them, hit his head. The thump cutting off their conversation. Stan and Lucas chuckled, the difference is Lucas actually went to help.

"What are you even looking for?" Puzzled Stan, watching Lucas help Stephen pull his head out of the cabinet. "Fucking--Eddies, like, inhaler. Remember he had two? One blue one green? He let me have the green one and I lost it." Stan thought back to last year when it had been the four musketeers. Eddie, Mike, Stevie, and himself. Everything blew up this year for some reason. Now it was never all four. Or at least, never Stevie.

Stephen had seemingly removed himself from the group and Eddie didn't seem to care. Insulting Stevie if he came up in conversations. It was obvious that he was dodging them. Always too busy to hang out but fine during moments like this. Safe behind his trash-filled walls. And Stan did remember the little green inhaler. One time Eddie had handed it to Stan because he was dumping his fanny pack looking for a bandaid(football is a dangerous sport).

Once held by Eddie and his little pink fingers, lay the Green inhaler. Under a stack of outdated sign-up sheets. Stan pulls the chain. "Very back, uh, right corner. It's under all these sign-in sheets dated back last year." Stephen went in with both arms, slithering his hands around until they touched the cold metal of an inhaler. He pulled it out, wincing as something scraped his arm. There, in his palm, is Eddies lost inhaler.

"You're pretty helpful when you want to be." Stephen said, showing off the gap in his teeth, Stan shrugged. Lucas was off to the side with question in his eyes. "Can you see through walls or?" He drawled off. Looking at the dates on some of the papers. A few of them dated back to 1984. Stan shook his head, reaching for Eddies inhaler. "Sometimes I can." Lucas nodded, balling up the sheet he'd been looking at.

"You're pretty helpful when you want to be." Stephen said, showing off the gap in his teeth, Stan shrugged. Lucas was off to the side with question in his eyes. "Can you see through walls or?" He drawled off. Looking at the dates on some of the papers. A few of them dated back to 1984. Stan shook his head, reaching for Eddies inhaler. "Sometimes I can." Lucas nodded, balling up the sheet he'd been looking at.

"Can I ask why you're giving this to me?" Stan said to Stephen. He took the inhaler and put it in his pocket. Stephen rolled his shoulders back. "Isn't it obvious?" He replied. Lucas wheeled his arm back and threw the paper ball, missing the trash can by miles. "I don't need it anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Are there any fellow fanfic writers reading this? I need some tips. I just suck at finishing stories? Like, i thought it was because I didn't plan well enough and made storylines too complicated? So I tried fully planning out a four-part story and I still can't finish it? I seriously loved this story and the fact that I let it fall apart so quickly really depresses me? I don't know, are there any helpful tips you can give me?


	11. Chapter 2: "Take that as a no."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Me too." Said Stan. They all turn to Mike who had finally captured the runaway ball. He gave them all a loving smile.  
Stan chuckled, turning to Bev and Ben. "Take that as a no."

"What's commensalism?" Stan asked, checking behind a tree. The bark is moist, proof of the rainstorm that happened yesterday. "Commensalism? Seriously?" Mike grunted, skin tinting green as he shook the trees with his vines. He was convinced that Henry and his gang had thrown his other shoe into one of the trees. Stan thought it was stupid but Mike wasn't taking chances. "I'm not studying while I'm looking for my shoes." Water that was dormant on leaves rained down on Mikes's head. He covered his eyes.

"You kept forgetting that one and we practiced for like an hour. If anything you should be jumping at the chance to study. You're gonna let a good grade pass you by over a shoe?" He checked under a rock. Mike sees him and throws a stick, it bounced off the tree next to him. "I'll do this by myself," Mike said over Stan's laugh. "I will, Stanley. Shove commensalism up your ass." Another tree rained on him. "But what is it? If I'm gonna shove something up my ass I want to at least know what it is." Mike went to move to another tree, "I think I'm gonna stab my ears out," Stan watched as Mike accidentally tangled his foot in a branch. "But I'm gonna ask this politely before I have to do that." His friend took a deep breath from the top of the tree. He had noticed his foot was stuck but was too busy reprimanding Stan to put effort into detangling himself. He pulled uselessly, making the trap around his foot worse.

"Shut." Mike shook the tree. "The fuck." Stan tried to say something--"Up!" Crash! Rain and leaves shuddered down, Mike cried out. He had lost footing on his vines and fell. Hanging upside down briefly--reaching up to free himself—crack! "Shit! No!" The branch snapped under Mikes weight, sending him spiraling to the ground. He smacked down on his back, groaning.

Stan stood a few feet away, hands covering his mouth. He was frozen solid, only moving his hands when the initial shock turned to laughter. He fell into hysterics. "I almost just fucking died." Mike croaked, feeling the grass soak his shirt and pants. Mike sat up, his skin turned green as a defense mechanism. Here he was, completely soaked and completely green. No closer to finding his shoe. "Wouldn't have happened if you just told me what Commensalism was." Stan teased, walking up closer to his friend.

He sees something on the tree Mike was sat in front of. Mike had landed in front of a tree that had some kind of carving on it. Stan moved Mikes head over, peering at it. "R plus..." He said aloud. His friend shoved his hand away, standing up and dusting himself off. Complaining about having to do his laundry again. "R plus..." Stan said again, feeling the carving with his fingers. 

"Mike, shut up for a second. Come look at this." His friend, mid-complaint, shut up. Squatting down to see what Stan was looking at. "Holy shit," Mike says. "Is this from when that thing happened?" Stan questioned. Referring to last weekend when Mike had been exhausted from taking a bunch of make up tests and had fallen asleep in his garden outside. He'd woken up around two AM and witnessed two drunken teenagers come floating out through a window. He hadn't known who the girl was but the boy he knew was Richie Tozier.

Why?

So there Mike was, listening to some girl and 'Roadrunner' she called him, drunkenly make out against a tree. They must've carved their names into it while they were sucking face. He jumped right out of there, taking the long way around the building because it had been a warm night. "I think so." Mike admired. "Why'd you say it like that? 'Is this from where the thing happened'?" He mocked Stanley's voice. Giggling when Stan reached out and slapped his arm.

"You're literally disgusting right now, Mike," Stan observed. Even his hair was coated in mud. His friend thanked him for 'such encouraging words', bending over and stretching. "I'm not gonna find my shoes, am I?" He said sadly. "Don't try to encourage me, you were over there looking under rocks." Mike went over to where they had thrown down their backpacks. Stan smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt. "I wasn't gonna try to encourage you. I think that shoe is fucking gone." Mike flipped Stan off, not bothering to face him.

"I'm kidding. We could come out here again tomorrow, look for it some more." He promised, picking his own backpack up. The duo walked side by side. "I know I'm being annoying about it, man. They just mean a lot to me." Stan's mouth suddenly tasted sour. He reached out and stopped Mike, mind swimming up into cold water. "Patrick Hockstetter is right there," Stan announced, grounding himself. He'd seen him, back pressed against the brick. Passing a cigarette back and forth with his grimy little girlfriend.

Mike tensed up, taking a few steps back. He knew that the worst thing he could do was run into the Bowers gang after Wednesday night. "I have to change my clothes, Stan. Look at me!" Mike bickered as the two of them walking around the other way towards the main building. "You have gym clothes, right?" Asked Stan. Mike, after months of living together, was catching on to Stan's deadpan look. It was like looking in a mirror.

The two boys headed into the main building, going to the gym so they could use the changing room. Mike washed the mud out of his hair and changed into his dry-sweat gym clothes. Putting on a pair of shorts not appropriate for the harsh wind that complained outside. Stan said Mike smelt like cheese which earned him a death glare. Mike was so obviously not in the mood but Stan was feeling hyper. "You know what I want to do right now?" Stan asked as they exited the changing rooms.

"Shut up? maybe just maybe?" Water trickled down Mikes forehead into his eyes, he squinted them. "Baseball. Will you play baseball with me?" Mike didn't have the chance to answer, Stan was already at the gym closet pulling out bats. The gym was fairly populated today, kids(some were literally)bouncing off the walls, others were content to sit on the bleachers and dodge balls as they flew at them. "Or we could sit down? Go see what Eddie is doing, maybe he's in the chorus room." But it was Friday and Eddie worked on Friday, Stan knew that. Stan tells Mike that. He tried to say that they'd done what Mike wanted to do and now it was Stan's turn but Mike wouldn't budge. He was tired, genuinely tired, and just because Stan was having ungodly bursts of energy didn't mean Mike was.

He offered to at least help Stan find someone who would play with him. They look around, seeing no familiar faces. "Landon McDonald is playing basketball." Mike pointed out. Stan looked to where Mike was pointing. Landon was in half-court practicing three-pointers, missing miserably. "No. He was annoying me in class earlier." Mike rolled his eyes, trying to convince Stan that his annoyance was immature. "You'll have to work with people you don't like when you start working, anyway. This is practice for the real world"-"I have practiced, Michael. Me and you live together." Mike pushes him.

"C'mon!" He whined. "Like, Stan, look at him. Look!" Landon got ready to shoot the ball. Miss. It almost hit someone. "Great form, that's a baseball player out there." Shoot, miss, just about hit someone in the stomach. They blocked the ball and Landon apologized. "Absolute angel on the outfield." Stan groaned. Landon shot and missed. The ball spun off, bounced off a corner, and hit someone in the face.

Everyone in the gym did a collective wince. "Oh god! I'm sorry!" Landon tried. "Yeah, Yeah, it's okay, not like he's fucking bleeding!" An aggressive voice called out. There, over the shoulder of a chubby kid who had just gotten his shit rocked, was Beverly Marsh. Mike looked over at Stan and smiled. "You can't play basketball, asshole, get a clue." She went on. Leading Chubs down the bleachers.

She stops when she sees Stan and Mike, her angry eyes looking them up and down. Bev pushes past them and Mike started walking beside her, pulling Stan along. The four of them exiting the gym. Chubs nose was gushing blood, they watch as it came spitting over his fingers, running down his hand. Beverly starts practically running. In the infirmary, controlled chaos circulated around them(while this goes on, a very awkward encounter ensues in the laundromat involving dirty scrubs, Eddie Kaspbrak, and the guy at the counter).

A nurse took one look at Ben and reached for paper towels. Shoving them on his face and sitting all four of them down, asking what happened. "Basketball." They all answer at once. Ben gurgled, perhaps on his own blood. The nurse nods, reaching up for Bens's hands and telling him to sit very still. She laid his hands on his lap and put her fingers on his face, holding them there even when Ben howled out in pain. A moment later, the infirmary is quiet save for the busy patter of feet around them and hushed voices.

Stan can taste the Lysol on his tongue. Bens' face is cleaned up, his leg is shaking but he is better. A smile on his face, a mole on his cheek. The nurse said they would all have to sign out before leaving, she left to get the clipboard. "Pretty gnarly hit back there," Mike said. Ben nodded, "Yeah, thanks." He swallowed. "Do I know you?" Beverly sniggered at her friends' words.

She pokes his shoulder. "The white boy over there is Stan, gum Stan, yeah. This is Mike, the biggest badass I've ever met." Bev says. Mike is smiling, the kind of smile he did when he was out of it but happy. It's the smile he gave Stan when he got his first B of the year. "You're a bigger badass than me, for sure." He whispered. Stan stretches his hand to Ben, "Stanley Uris, from one white boy to another." They cackle.

The nurse comes back with the clipboard. They sign out and then the four of them head back to the gym because Stan was still up for some baseball and Bev threatened to beat his ass. They raided the gym closet for frisbees to use for bases. Outside, a game of baseball began. Ben bats first, Beverly is pitching, Stan found himself at second base. Mike joined too, putting himself on Bev's team just to spite Stan.

The ball left her hand and Ben swung. Too early, the ball soared past him. "Strike one," Stan called. "Ben, have you ever played baseball? Move your feet, stand like this." He widens his stance for example. Mike groans from his base. "Ignore him! If everything isn't a hundred percent perfect he'll throw a fit." Ben swallowed and nods. Bev throws—C'mon Ben! C'mon Ben!—he swung as the ball flew past his ear.

"Strike two!" Beverly called, putting an 'L' on her forehead. Stan ignored her, taking the time to go over to Ben. "Ben, before I say this just know that it is constructive criticism completely," Stan said, putting his hands on Bens's shoulders.

"You suck." He deadpanned.

Chub's body shook with laughter. "Now, stand like this. Get your legs wider, c'mon." He grabbed the bat. "Hold it up here, you've been holding it too low. Swing with your body, look at what I'm doing." Stan demonstrates in a loop. Gesturing for Ben to copy what he's doing. "Bat up and...swing! That would've been a home run." Stan proclaimed, he held his hand up for Ben to high five. "If you're done cheating," Bev jeered, sarcastic smile on her face. "I'd like to get back to whippin' your asses." Stan runs back to his base, giving Ben one last thumb up.

Beverly was a good pitcher, Stan admitted, watching as the ball sped past Ben once more. "Strike three!" Mike hollered, he was panting from having to repeatedly fetch the ball. "Switch!" He called. Stan moved to pitch, Bev was batting. She hit two fouls and missed another. Yeah, she was a good pitcher but ass with a bat.

Her and Mike groveled with defeat. "Switch!" Ben yelled. Their feet crunch the grass. Stan is batting, Mike is pitching. He looks nervous, he knew better than anyone that Stan was a beast with the bat. "I'm gonna hit a home run." He whispered to Bev as they passed each other. "Don't be so sure." She winked back.

Stan got in position, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. The ball flew and so did Stan. Bam! The ball goes as far as(what would've been)the grass line. Stan is moving, toes hitting the frisbees as he went. Mike yelled for Bev to run but Stan can't see either of them. Ben is back at batting, Stan had to stop at third because Beverly had got the ball. "Homerun my ass!" She beamed.

Mike cheered her on, catching the ball when she threw it. Mike gives Ben the 'you ready?' look and he returns it with a nervous nod. Ben then looked to Stan. All he does is loop the motion he'd taught the boy earlier. One last time, 'Up and swing. Home run.' Ben furrows his eyebrows, he looks confident now. Mike stretched his arm back and pitched.

The ball sped towards him and he hit it! It winked through the air. Past Stan, past everyone. Gone. They all stood still for a moment. "Go!" He called. "Go, go, go!" Stan is running, Ben is running, Beverly's running. Everyone's running except Mike who is stuck with his mouth open, hands on his hips.

The wind slapped against his knees, knocking him out of it. He watched as Beverly chased after the ball, getting smaller and smaller as she went out into the grass. in front of him, Stan and Ben mock him with the way they rack up points. They end up following her because she couldn't find it by herself. "Lucky us." She mumbled when Stan confirmed that it had landed in a tree. It was a ten-minute walk all the way across the field into the woods.

The trees over there were monstrous, most of them were easily thirty feet. Climbing a tree should've been easy but Mike took one look at the tree in question and told them no. "Is this game over, then?" Ben asked, his back against the bark. He was almost breathless. "How are we supposed to get up there?" He added. Stan asked what Bens's mutation was. He was disappointed with the answer.

They might have to get a teacher but Stan couldn't think of a teacher with a physical mutation other than Coach Aurm. Coach Aurm would be annoying about it though, he would lecture them the whole way there on the irresponsibility of 'their generation'. "I could get it." Bev perked up. Her voice throwing pebbles at Stan's wall of concentration. He glanced at her, seeing that she seemed dead serious. "How would you even get up there?" Stan asked. he wanted to see her logic.

Behind the group, the monster tree loomed dangerously. "Mike could-" She turned to the said boy and chuckled at his face. He eyed her with question, mouth ready to say no. "-Mike could grow vines around the tree. I could climb them and get the ball down." They thought about it for a moment. "It's pretty high up." Stan pointed out. Beverly says she isn't afraid of heights.

"Long fall to the bottom." He continued. He thought for sure Mike was gonna say no. "Sure, whatever," Mike responded casually. Beverly punched the air, reaching down to double knot her sneakers. "Seriously?" Stan shrilled. He watched in horror as Mikes Vines twisted around the tree in a spiral.

"What if she falls?" Beverly secured her footing and began going up. "She won't." Mike assured. His cheeks blushed green. Stan swallowed hard, "That's a thirty feet drop, dumbass, not a tumble." Ben raises his back off the tree, looking to Stan worriedly. Beverly grunts as she reaches up for the next vine. "If she falls, she will fucking die!" He rattled on. "Die!"-"Stan." Mike interrupted, his gaze soft.

"Relax." Stan squirmed in response. "Relax."

He couldn't help but scoff at Mikes words. "We aren't gonna let her fall. You don't have to be so scared." Stan stepped back and wrapped his arms around his body. "I'm not-" He stopped himself. Ben is suddenly beside Mike. "You don't have to worry." He contributed. Stan felt how tense his shoulders were. He took a deep breath and relaxed them.

"I found it!" Bev chanted from the top of the tree. They all look up. Beverly is leaned over a branch, holding on to it with one hand and showing off the ball with the other. "Good job, Bev!" Ben chirped. She dropped the ball and as it rolled off, Mike went after it. "Yeah, good job. Now get down from there." Stan insisted, hugging himself tighter.

The girl makes her way down, skillfully so, feet hitting the grass without a problem. Stan exhales. "Do you guys want to keep playing?" She asked, smoothing out her shirt. "I'm down." Ben agreed. "Me too." said Stan. They all turn to Mike who had finally captured the runaway ball. He gave them all a loving smile.

Stan chuckled, turning to Bev and Ben. "Take that as a no." The game continued with three people, Mike left to take an actual shower. It was fun, they played way out into the afternoon. The game ended with Beverly hitting her first non-foul. It didn't go too far but it was enough for her to call it a victory. Once they got the ball, the three of them went back to the gym and put their stuff away. "I'm gonna go annoy Eddie. Do you guys want to come?" Bev prompted, stretching.

Ben agreed to go with her. "I'm gonna head back to the east building. Get showered up before dinner." Declared Stan, taking a step out of the gym closet. They said goodbye and went their separate ways. He blinked and suddenly he was in the showers, soaping up a rag and washing away the sweat he had built up. Showering at a school where people could shape shift was no easy feat. Sometimes fire burst out over the top of different stalls, others times the floor was flooded with water from kids who could control it. An octopus tentacle came flying under Stans stall causing him to play jump rope with it.

"Watch it!" He reamed, knocking on the wall next to him. Another limb swept through his stall as a response. It tripped him this time and he fell into a tentacle, he pushed it away with his hands. "You watch it, dickhead." Octopus boy responded, sniggering. Stan rolled his eyes and finished his shower. He was just putting on his pajamas when the hall monitors came through declaring dinner time. Mike hadn't been in the dorm when Stan had come back from playing baseball but he saw him at dinner, leaning over his food while he spoke to Ben(Beverly absent).

Stan walked up and greeted them, surprised by how comfortable Mike was with Ben despite not knowing him very long. "What are you guys talking about?" Stan asked, tapping his feet repeatedly. Around him, the cafeteria roared. "Making plans to hang out tomorrow." Ben answered with a grin. Some girls passed by Stan without saying excuse me. It made his skin crawl. "I was telling him we might not be able to since we'll be looking for my shoes"-"But then I offered to help." Stan nodded along.

He was trying to pay attention to them but somehow he got sucked into the individual patter of feet against the hard wood floor. Tap, tap, tap, it was like he could feel it on his skin. "-So the both of us will help look for Mikes shoe and then we'll head into the drama room so you guys can help us." Ben finished. Mike bobbed his head, taking a sip of his milk. "Sound good?" He asked Stan. Stan nodded, "Sounds good." Then he fled the cafeteria to the library.

He was surprised again when ten minutes later, Ben and Mike came in after him  
—-  
Stan found a bush that looked promising. He squeezed his hands through the leaves and felt around, disappointed when he didn't feel the worn material of a Nike shoe. The leaves left his hands cold and damp. He shivered. "What is predation?" Stan asked as he wiped his hands off on the towel Mike had brought. "Not today, Stan." Mike yawned, he was up in another tree, using vines as a harness. He maneuvered his body through the branches. The hope he once had of finding his shoe dwindled. "Ecological relationships are very important, Michael." Stan protested. He was showing all of his teeth with the smile he was pulling.

Mike ignored him, however, moving silently from his current tree to another. "There you guys are!" A voice echoed. Stan and Mike turn their heads. It's Ben, behind him is Bill Denbrough. Gangly, mouth turned up in a mischievous grin. "When you said woods I thought you meant the ones behind the school. Sorry we're late." Ben apologized, waving to Stan.

Bill waved too and Stan looked away in disgust. What a surprise this is. Bill Denbrough and Ben (enter last name) were almost completely polar opposites. Why the hell did they know each other? Stan didn't like Beverly either but he'd have preferred her over Denbrough, him and his stupid middle parted hair. "That's alright, I'm glad you came anyway. Hey Bill." Mike lowered himself out of the tree.

Bill looked on in awe, like he didn't go to a school filled with people who had abilities just like it. "H-hi M-Mike. How are you?" The two of them conversed casually. Stan busied himself, sticking his head in different bushes to ignore the other boys. Mike began to laugh at something Bill had said, a loud laugh. The laugh he did when something was genuinely funny. Stan looked up at them. Ben himself was sniggering, sweet brown eyes looking up at his friends. He even looks to Stan, sharing the smile with him.

Stan fought himself on the matter. "Hey." He interrupted them, making Bill and Mike to turn. A breeze fluttered by causing Stan's skin to tingle. He swallowed, "What's so funny?" Stan stepped out of the shrub and walked over to them. Ben stepped out of the circle and wandered off to the side. "Stan, Stan, Stan! Who's the stupidest person you know?" Mike asked.

Stan opened his mouth to speak-"Besides me." He closed his mouth and thought for a moment. It was a warm day, sticky. The clouds rested in the sky, casting cool shade out over the school. "Anybody with the last name Denbrough." Stan decided aloud. Not looking to Bill, although the laughter that followed caused him to. Bill wasn't sour, his grin was authentic and it made Stan's stomach churn.

He turned his head just in time to see Ben peering into one of the bushes Stan had just pushed through. "I already looked in that one, Ben." Stan piped up. The chubby boy shrugged, going over to the next. "That one too. And that one--Ben—that whole area I've already been through." His friend straightened up, face red with frustration as he peered around the trees. "Well, which area hasn't been searched?" He asked, stepping over a branch and going deeper into the forest. "We've been through most of this."-"Top and bottom." Added Mike.

He was smiling, and the clouds that shaded his skin made the circles around his eyes stand out. Stan raised an eyebrow. "If it was over here we would've found it by now." He continued. "W-well, w-we could ch-check the w-woods b-behind the school." Bill tried. Ben thought that was a good idea, saying so as a heavy wind whirled past them. Stan shivered, shrinking deeper into his hoodie.

"It's sorta cold out here, isn't it?" Stanley pointed out. Another push of wind made the other boys mutter out agreements. "I guess...I guess the shoe will be ruined when we find it anyway. One more day outside won't kill it." Mike concluded, smiling tiredly at Stan. Stan was gonna smile back but then Mike turned to Bill and the two of them broke into laughter for no reason. Stan coughed and began to walk forward, bumping into Bill with his shoulder. The giggling ended abruptly and Stan turned around, "Are you morons ready to go or not?" Ben called for Stan to wait up.

Stan doesn't wait up.

He walked several feet ahead of all of them until they reached the auditorium. Mike and Stan sitting in the front row seats while Ben and Bill made their way up onto the stage. "You never really explained what we were doing here, Ben." Beside Stan, Mike quizzed. "You guys aren't gonna burst out into song are you?" Stan groaned, his voice bouncing off the walls and hitting him in the face.

"It's for drama class."  
"A-also f-for dr-drama cl-club."  
"Its a home work assignment."  
The boys on stage stretched briefly. "Okay, but what is it?" Egged Stan. Bill and Ben moved in such a position to where Bills back was facing the audience and Ben was behind him, invisible until he punched Bill. Then you could see his arm, extended in the direction that Bill went flying to. The smack crackled around them. Mike jumped, completely thrown off. He had his mouth open but the only noises that came out were the choked versions of words.

"That was fake." Stan spoke. He spoke loudly, enjoying the way his voice echoed. "That wasn't a hard enough punch to make someone fall to the ground, also, Ben your fist was too low. Like, no where close to Bills face." On cue, Bill stood up and rolled his shoulders. Moving like someone who hadn't just been punched in the face. It took Mike a moment to realize what had just went on. "This is why I wanted Stan here, Bill. He gives fair criticism." Ben was saying. "N-not r-really. I th-think he's j-just a c-cynical a-asshole." Bill made sure to say the last part loud enough to make it echo.

"It's not a crime to be Cynical, Denbrough." Stan stood up and climbed onto the stage. "I know what a punch looks like. Care for a demonstration?" Mike is in the audience. The other three stood elevated on the stage. Stan there with his carefully taken care of hair. His polo shirt and stale expression were intimidating in a strange way. Bill stepped closer.

"Th-that's the m-most b-boring way s-someone has e-ever th-threatened me." He pushed Stan playfully. "Y-you c-can do b-better." Stan stepped back a bit, wiping off the part of his hoodie where Bill had touched. "Whatever. I need new friends."  
"S-so w-we're friends?"  
"Bite it, Denbrough."

They practice till dinner rolled around. Stan helping Ben and Bill perfect fake punches and slaps. There were other moves as well; the back breaker, stomach punch, stomach kick, the jaw cruncher. All of these moves were practiced thoroughly. Bill had the most trouble with clapping his hand on time with the reaction. He would throw a good punch then be so lost in the motion that he'd forget to add the sound effect. If he did meet the clap, the next problem was that the clap was too soft. Ben didn't struggle as much as Bill did.

But Stan did advise that Ben get a partner closer to his height because Bill was a little too tall for him. Some how, Stan was roped in to eating dinner with Bill and Ben. The worst part is he didn't even hate it.


	12. Chapter 3: "I'm returning the honesty, jackass."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan hates how out of control he felt, his emotions rumbled noisily in his stomach. "The second me and Mike fuck up, it's you who's there to tell us to be better. I'm returning the honesty, jackass. Don't ruin your friendship over this." Eddie leaned beside Stan.

Sunday presented itself as a warm, cloudy day. Not as windy as Saturday had been but definitely not appropriate for the shorts Eddie was wearing. Stan had offered Eddie his hoodie and the thing practically swallowed him whole, he shivered regardless. Eddie, Mike, and himself were taking their chances in the picnic area. Stan had gone around that morning collecting the laundry from his clients and knew that he would be spending all morning in the laundromat regardless so he was fine with getting his blanket dirty. They brought Mike as well, one to lay on and one to cover up. The three boys snuggled in, admiring the eight o'clock sunrise.

Mike ate away at his egg and cheese biscuit, sipping occasionally at the coffee he had bought for himself but was sharing with Eddie anyway. Eddie was going on about some band he was into at the moment. Humming the melody of his favorite song. "Is that nine-inch nails?" Stanley prodded, listening closer to Eddie's toon. "Yeah, actually." He answered, holding back a shiver. "How'd you know?" Stan leaned back, pulling the blanket up to his chest. "I do listen to some music, Eddie," He said pointedly.

"How do you know them? I've only ever heard you listen to bubble gum stuff." Eddie scoffed, wiggling his arms behind Mike and pushing him forward so he could be eye to eye with Stan(Mike loved sitting in the middle compared to Eddie who hated it with a bright, burning, passion). "I feel like your making fun of me, but I can't tell," Eddie said. "So if you are, shut up-"

"Bubblegum to rock is a huge leap."

"-and I never exclusively listened to bubble gum. I have a Billy Joel tape, too." Mike added that Billy Joel was sorta bubble gum. "He is not," Eddie argued. "A little bit." Insisted Mike. He took a drink from the coffee and then put his head in his hands. Eddie lifted up farther, coming up to his knees. Yes, Eddie would rather subject himself to the cold then be wrong. He cocked his head, "So you're telling me that the man that didn't start the fire, is a bubblegum artist?" Mike and Stan stared at him.

"You're delusional!"-"You're delusional." Stan fired back. "I know the cords to that song," Mike said quickly. He was changing the subject and Stan knew to just go with it. "We didn't start the fire? I can play that." He continued. Eddie sighed and covered his legs up. Getting back comfortable but not relaxing. "Would you play it for us?" Eddie asked. Stan didn't feel like hearing music this early in the morning but it seems he was outnumbered two to one.

"Yeah, but you have to get it for me. I don't feel like walking all the way back to the dorm." Eddie groaned and stood up. "Lazy asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eddie, put some pants on while you're up there, man." Suggested Stan as Eddie sped off. Gone in a wink. Stan exhaled. He loved Eddie, the kid was one of his very best friends. However, sometimes he could be so annoying. The thing he found annoying was also the biggest thing they had in common. Eddie was back in front of them. Teeth clattering, still in shorts, and carrying Mike's guitar.

Stan groaned and pushed the blanket over his face. It was too early for Eddie and his pettiness. "This thing is heavy, Mike." He commented, handing the instrument to its owner. "It was a bitch to get downstairs." Mike readied himself to play. Strumming a few cords to wake up his fingers. "Yeah, sorry about that. Should've warned you." The melody of 'we didn't start the fire' began to climb out of the strings'. It came over to Stan, picked him up, and carried him through breakfast.

It carries him through the five hours he spends in the laundry room. Even as he chatted with Stevie, Mikes's voice is in the back of his head. He had such a soft voice compared to Eddies who's was raspy. Their voices mixed together in Stan's mind, harmonizing in a way that reminded Stan of...well...he looked up to Stephen who was reading a comic book, humming. Stan shook his head and let the music carry him on. It's three forty-five when he returned his last basket of freshly washed clothes. He found himself on his bed, splayed out and tired. He rolled over and noticed that Mike had been going through a drawer and left it open.

Stan frowned, their room was usually impeccably clean. Stan was a neat-freak and Mike was a fairly clean person himself. A person who didn't leave drawers open. He went over to close it but stopped when he noticed the pill bottle over the clothes. It was Mikes's sleeping medication. Stan held it up and checked inside. It was empty.  
How could it be empty already?

Mikes' prescription was filled at the beginning of the month and October only started last week. He furrowed his eyebrows. The doorknob sounded, making Stanley jump. He threw the pill bottle back into the drawer, closed it, and then sat on his bed. All in enough time before Mike walked inside. He gave Stan a questioning look, the air around them felt heavy. "What were you doing?" He accused, stood frozen with his door on the knob.

Stan swallowed, "Masturbating." He lied. Mike laughed awkwardly, "Right, whatever. I was just coming back to get my guitar pick." He finally entered the dorm, closing the door behind him. He's at the shelf shuffling through his guitar stuff. "Which one do you think Eddie would like? The green one or the blue one?" Mike holds up the options to Stan. Stan prided himself on being able to pick up on signs. "Blue." Mike presented himself as an open book, but that wasn't always the case. "Are you gonna come with me?" He was considerate and kind.

Always going out of his way for others. But he had his secrets. The kind of secrets that come in the form of an empty pill bottle, the kind of secrets that get hidden away in drawers. "Come where?" He asked. Standing up off the bed and following Mike. "Gotta drop this by Eddies then I wanted to go by the school woods."

"Look for your shoe?"  
"Yep." Mike popped. "My last day. If I don't find it now I'm just gonna give up. I'll call uncle Peter and tell them they got stolen or something." They fled into the hall and made the long journey from row E up to B where Eddie lived. He'd lived closer to them last year in row D but then some sixth-grader bitched about wanting to be closer to his brother so they made Eddie move. Eddie hated living on row B, rightfully so. It was a rowdy place to live, Stan knew first hand. "B5 right? I always get it mixed up." Mike asked as he began to knock on the door. "You get everything mixed up. I'm starting to think you're dyslexic." Stan indulged.

Beside him, Mike facepalmed. "That's not even what Dyslexia is." The doorknob wiggled open, in front of them was Will Byers. He'd been as short as Eddie in eighth grade. Now he rivaled Stan in height, a well-needed growth spurt. "Hey Will." Mike and Stan greeted at the same time. Will laughed under his breath, letting them in. "Hey, guys." Eddie is on the floor with Mikes's guitar in his lap.

Studying sheet music he had laid upon his knee. He was trying to play the song he'd been humming earlier, Stan realized. The sheet music he was using was handwritten. That must've been what Eddie and Mike were doing while Stan was in the laundromat. "Look at that. Have you finally given up on the piano?" Stan picked, poking Eddie in the shoulder. Eddie didn't answer right away, thanking Mike for bringing the pick and taking it from him. "It wasn't like I was getting any better. I wanted to stop wasting Mikes's time." Mike insisted that he loved teaching Eddie piano.

"You made my Monday's interesting, man." He added. "We could still have Monday's. Just no piano. Like ever again, that instrument is the bane of my existence." Mike and Stan stay in Eddie's room for another ten minutes. Mike helped Eddie perfect a few difficult runs. Stan watched them closely. It struck him, quite hard, that Mike looked like literal death. Like he hadn't slept in several days. His thoughts are interrupted when Eddie turned to him and pointed. "This one goes out to you, Stanley." He sang.

"Bow down before the one you serve, you're going to get what you deserve."  
—  
Stan hadn't seen it coming. He and Mike were behind the school, searching and failing to find the missing shoe. He understood that sometimes he can act like he hates everyone and maybe he did most of the time, but he didn't hate Mike and seeing him sad made his heart hurt. Stan had been being a good friend, trying to use his ability to find the shoe. Sometimes it worked, but that was with small stuff like pencils or chapstick. He didn't tell Mike that part, however. All he said was; "Sometimes it works." Mike looked hopeful, his smile was enough to make Stan's plan concrete.

"Maybe this will be sometimes?" Mike said, crossing his fingers. Stan grinned, "Maybe." He began to swim up in his mind. Stretching and reaching for a surface that didn't exist. The water was cold around him. The cold told him it was a lost cause but Stan swam anyway, ignoring it the same way he was ignoring the burn in his chest. He needed to breathe. If only he could just-"Stan!" Poor Stan, he hadn't seen it coming.

He took a deep breath and before anything else, he was being shoved on his stomach. He hit the ground with a thump. Somebody's got their foot on his back, he tried to push up but the weight on his back got heavier. Above him, a laugh rung out. It was Patrick Hockstetter, him and his dirty boots ruining Stan's favorite shirt. He couldn't see Mike from where he was but Stan could only imagine the worse. "What are you two fairy's out here doing, huh? Jerking each other off?" He twisted his foot in Stan's back.

The boy on the ground cried out, "Eat shit, Hockstetter." Patrick laughed and reached down, pulling Stan up violently. His fists were gripped around the collar of his shirt. Stan feels his toes leave the ground. He panicked and grabbed on to Patrick's arm, digging his nails in. It didn't do much damage but it makes the bully lower him. He stomps his foot and crunches Patrick's toes, causing him to get thrown back to the ground. He wasn't on his butt long, shuffling quickly to his feet and looking for Mike.  
Behind Patrick, a little to the left was Mike. 

Stiff as a board other than his eyes which were trained on Stan. Stan, who was five seconds away from running off. Patrick stopped crying over his foot, lifting up and sneering at Stan. "Look at that. Stan, you really did some damage!" Stan's body went numb. "Allow me to return the favor." Patrick grabbed Stan by the neck, dragging his frozen body over to the brick of the main building. "The brick is scratchy ain't it?" The older boy commented crazily.

"I bet it could break the skin, actually. All you'd have to do..." He forced Stan's cheek to the brick. "Is put in some-" Stan could feel his skin being scraped off as Patrick rubbed his head back and forth. Hot, sizzling pain shot through his body. He tried to scream out but all that sounded was a squeal. "-elbow grease." His cheek burned, something wet slapped against his nose. Stan could see the blood out of the corner of his eye, it made him nauseous. He thought he might pass out from the pain. This was it, this is how he dies.

What was he leaving behind other than a mess for someone else to clean up? If that was all he really was, an uncleaned mess, than maybe this was a good thing. Something came whizzing by Patrick's head, it removed his attention from Stan. Following the ball was an alarm of obnoxious laughter. When the noise finally turned the corner, Stan's worst dreams came true. It was stupid Richie Tozier and his wacky off-balanced glasses. He stopped laughing when he saw Stan, but the smile remained.  
"Hey Patrick, uh..." He greeted casually, walking up to said boy carefully. "Whatcha doing bud?" His ADHD eyes flickered from Stan to Mike, to Patrick all in a second. "Was that your football?" Patrick asked, ignoring Richie's question. "Yeah, I was playing catch with the Dicks. But anyway, enough about me, let's talk about you, bro." He laughed, reaching out and punching Patrick in the shoulder. "Why do you have my neighbor out behind the school bent over?" Then his eyes traveled past Patrick to Mike and the smile got even bigger. He croaked out a laugh. "What is this? A cuckold?" Patrick let go of Stan, straightening up.

"This is your neighbor?" He questioned. Richie nodded, "Sure is partna' him an' his roommate, yessiree." Stan could move again but he still didn't have control of himself, as Richie pulled him up and made them stand side by side. "Stanley, we know each other right?" He asked, still in a southern accent. Richie's eyes betrayed the rest of his face. He was nervous and Stan could tell. "Yeah, and you're annoying." Richie laughed. "So there it is! I'm annoying, his face is bleeding, and you, Patrick, are a psychopath." He piped up, walking in front of Stan to be face to face with Hockstetter.

"So uh...you should probably fuck off." Patrick's face went red. He hesitated before walking off. Giving Stan a sly look before disappearing behind the brick. When he's gone, Richie exhaled. A long one, a sigh so heavy it sent him to the ground. Mike from the woods cane running over, panting as he pulled Stan closer. "Stop, Mike. Stop, I'm okay. I'm-" Mike wouldn't listen, taking Stan's face into his hands.

"I hate Hockstetter." He said behind gritted teeth. Stan could feel that Mike was shaking. "I hate him so fucking much," Mike tells Stan later that from where he was paralyzed, he had a front-row view of Stan being assaulted. The imagery joins him in his sleep from that moment on. Mike's fingertips turn green, the color spread to Stan's bloody cheek. The scratches heal and fade back into Stan's skin. "Alright, I'm fine now. See?" Stan assures. "I'm fine." But Stan is shaking too and Mike can feel it.

"Holy shit." Richie breathed from the ground. "Hi, Stan." He said smirking. "Go away, Richie," Stan said flatly. Richie pushes himself to his feet. "What? I don't get a thank you? I just saved your ass."   
"I don't owe you anything."  
"Well, I think you do."  
Mike turned his attention to Richie. "Richie, I know you think being an asshole is funny but will you not? Not right now at least." Mike said, eyes trained to the ground. Richie is staring at him,"Yo, I never told you my name."  
"Stan told me."  
Richie goes back to Stan, eyes wide and smile wider. "So you talk about me?" He cooed, winding closer to Stan. "Only to talk about how much I don't like you." Ans Richie Tozier smirked; "Most would agree that when you don't like someone, you keep their name out of your mouth." Stan's face went red.

"Yeah, well most would agree that if someone tells you to go away, it means to fuck off." Richie rolled his eyes and Mike stepped between the two. "Calm down Stan." He said, placing his hands back on his shoulders. "It's okay, man. He's leaving." Richie rose an eyebrow, "I am?" Mike gave him a stank eye. One that made Richie put his hands up, walking off into the woods. Stan can hear his feet crunching sticks as he wandered farther away. "It's okay," Mike repeated. Stan feels like his head is about to explode.

"No, it's fucking not. It's not okay." Stan pushes Mikes's arms off of him. "Why is it not okay?" He felt his chest start to burn. Mike was looking at him so softly and for some reason, it was pissing him off. "Because he's here." He explained, pointing to Richie who was looking for his football. "And because you're lying to me." He continued. Mike smiles, reaching out to touch Stan again. When Stan steps away, the smile drops and Mike looks scared.

"Lying to you about what?" Mike was a bad liar, he always seemed to tell on himself. "Why haven't you been..." Stan's eyes flicker to Richie in the background who was poking around by a pile of leaves. "Have you...slept lately, Mike?" Mike seemingly stopped breathing. The hesitation is enough of an answer. Behind them, Richie slips and falls. Mike jumped, turning his head and sighing. He didn't give Stan a second look as he went to help Richie up.

Richie, who was yelling about something under his back. "What the fuck is that? There's something-" He reached under himself and pulled out a shoe. A dirt smudge, water damaged Nike. Stan's skin went cold. Mike gasped, bending down and taking it. "Whose shoe is that?" Richie rubbed his back, getting up to his feet. Mike answered by pulling him into a hug.

Richie coughed out a laugh and hugged Mike back. "Alright, I guess this is happening." During the hug, Mike catches eye with Stan. Stan looked away quickly and began to walk off. Getting faster when he heard footsteps behind him. "Stan hey, wait. Look, man, Richie found my shoe!"-"Good for him." He interrupted. He stopped abruptly, spinning around to stare at Mike. "And good for you." Stan spat.

Mike looked taken back, his grin fell off its axis. "Wait, where are you going?" Mike tripped trying to keep up with Stan who had begun to walk again. "I don't have to fucking tell you, Michael, we live together." Raved Stan, his feet assaulting the ground. "I'll see you later." Mike stopped chasing after him, watching as Stan stomped back around the building. He wanted to say more, but everything he thought of saying died on his tongue. A graveyard of unsaid words. Mike settles on silence but Richie is there to make things loud.  
—-  
Stan ends up in the gym. He sees Bev when he walks in, she's got her neck craned to look at a poster. A poster advertising the upcoming Halloween dance. Stan was thankful that her attention was adverted, that meant he could easily just turn on his heel and exit the gym-"Stanley!" Beverly called. "Hey! What's up buttercup?" She said, running up to him. "Hi, Bev." He said awkwardly, turning to face her. She had a bandanna on to hold her hair back.

She looked pretty like that. Stan shook the thought out of his head. "Did you read about the Halloween dance? Such a rip-off, twenty dollars a ticket." She scoffed, knocking her shoulder into his. "Yeah, such a rip-off. That's probably why everyone goes to it every year." The two of them walk past the poster again. It was being held outside this year, apparently. It makes sense, last year they held it on the first floor of the main building and it was quickly overcrowded. "Everyone?" Quizzed Bev, squinting at the price.

Willing it to change. "Not me at least, I don't do dances. Mike says last year was insane." Beverly looked past Stan expecting him to show up on cue. "Where is Mike?" She asked. Stan looked behind him and shrugged. "Not here. Where's Ben?" He shot back. Beverly popped her gum. "Not here. Where's Mike?" Stan glared at her, hating how much her smile derailed his straight face.

He began to walk away, exiting the gym before he actually ever entered it. "I don't know, Bev. Who cares?" She fought to keep up with him. They go out into the hall and turn left towards the auditorium. "I care. It seems like something bad happened, did you two get in a fight?" Stan peeks his head through the door. Inside, Ben is up on stage measuring large slabs of styrofoam. Other drama kids help him, measuring the other sides. One kid even had a calculator.

Stan can't see Bill from where he's standing, but Bill is in the lightbox going over the spotlight cues with an upperclassman. Ben and Bill had explained yesterday that neither of them would actually be in the show. Contributing? Yes. Bill had a huge responsibility with the spotlight and was really excited to see the play from way up in the box. He would have the best view of the show. Ben would be behind the curtain helping move scenes around.

He also had to learn the stage directions, that way he could make sure the actors were in the right places when the curtain pulled back. Stan hadn't known that so much work went into productions. Ben and Bill were thrilled to help educate, their smiles were genuine. Drama isn't all about acting. Shit goes on behind the scenes. "So did you? Did you two get in a fight?" Beverly continued in his ear. Stan pulled back, stepping out into the hall and groaning.

"If I say yes will you stop with the questions?" Beverly gave him a blank look. "You just seem upset, man. I'm trying to help."-"Oh really, Bev? Do I seem upset? How upset do I seem?" He drawled on sarcastically. Bev didn't respond at first. The look on her face made him regret his words. "Wow. You really don't like me." She concluded, looking at Stan from his polished sneakers to his red face. It was damp from him washing it before coming into the gym, she noticed the wetness but didn't comment on it. "That's not true."  
"Isn't it?" Bev barked back.

"Or do you think I'm a slut? That's why you ignored me for two weeks right?" She wandered past him. He walked along behind her. They were gravitating towards the cafeteria. "That isn't why, I never believed the rumors. I didn't think you were that kind of person."  
"What? A slut?"  
"No, an idiot." Stan peddled forward. Getting beside Bev in enough time to notice that she had been smiling. Stan felt his cheeks lift up. "Everyone knows Patrick has a spotty dick." For some reason that makes Beverly double over with laughter.

She laughed so hard that saliva sprayed out of her mouth. Stan giggles along with her, watching as she collected herself. "I wasn't making a joke. That's a serious thing." Stan and Bev make their way to the cafeteria. About halfway down the arts hall, they catch glimpse of Eddie. He's lugging Mikes's guitar over his shoulder. He also had his songbook with him. His set up for carrying all of his things wasn't working, but he would be too stubborn to ask for help.

"Eddie!" Bev called. He lowered the guitar and turned around to look at them. He was red in the face. "He's so stupid," Stan mumbled. The two of them jogged over to him. Beverly took on the guitar, lifting it up and blowing another bubble. "Hey, Eddie." She popped. "Stan called you stupid." Eddie had just gotten through talking to Mrs. Spinster. They couldn't be in the chorus room today because chorus practice was taking place. That meant that they'd have to go somewhere else and Eddie didn't know of any other empty rooms unless they felt like trying their luck on the empty second floor.

They end up in the picnic area. Stan made it clear that he was not getting his blankets dirty again. "Stan should call himself stupid," Eddie said cooly. Taking his jacket off and sitting on it. "That and petty."  
"Did you talk to Mike?"  
"Yeah, you're petty."  
"You're petty."  
"You're both petty." Beverly refereed, holding the guitar out to Eddie. "Here." He took it, muttering out a soft thank you. Stan picked up Eddie's spiral notebook, not looking inside but at the back.

Eddies name is signed in the front, his handwriting is small and angry much in relation to the boy himself. There should've been three other names on the back. His and Mikes remained untouched, but Stephens was blocked out with a marker. Stan sighed and placed the journal back down. It was Eddie's old songbook. "Have you been working on any new songs lately?" Bev asked. She had her feet on the brick wall, back laid in the grass, head cradled by the flannel she'd been wearing.

"Yeah, one. I'm sorta stuck at this one part. Bev, are you good with words?" She shook her head. "Ben is. He helped me write that acrostic poem for writing a few weeks ago." Stan leaned forward. "What word do you need?" He asked. "Something that rhymes with heavy." Eddie flipped to the page he was working on and handed it to Stan. He scooted In closer beside his friend, looking over Eddies' writing. Stan was no songwriter but he was good with vocabulary. "But I'mma keep smiling till I'm something, something, heavy." Stan read.

"You need more syllables here so the rhythm matches up," Eddie says no shit, Sherlock. "Hush. Remember when I told you that near rhymes are a thing? It doesn't have to be a straight down rhyme, man, it could be 'bratty' and 'bashing'. That's just an example but do you get what I mean?" Eddie nodded, taking his book back. Stan looked up and saw that Beverly was staring. He shook his head at her, "What?" He asked. That only made her smile wider. "That's the sweetest I've ever seen you act." She said. Stan rolled his eyes but she continued.

"No seriously man, you just got so soft. Like all the asshole-ness from earlier melted away." Eddie chuckled at her words. "Stan is a softie." He exposed. "You just have to know him for a while, get past the hard exterior." Stanley flipped Eddie off. He didn't realize he was smiling till Eddie pointed it out, turning to Bev and saying; "Look at that smile!" The two began to laugh. Stan started to tell them off but the words choked away in his throat, his cheeks felt so hot. He put his head in his hands, chuckling. "Alright, Stanley is a big, mushy, sweetheart. Goddamnit, it was supposed to be a secret." He said over the laughing.

"Hey Bev? Beverly! I will give you money if you promise to go away for like five minutes." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. "I need to talk to Eddie about something and I'm gonna be honest with you, I don't want you to know." Bev stopped laughing, her face was still red. She put her hands on her hips. "Well, now I want to know." She reaches for the money but Stan pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "I'm kidding, man, I'll get out of your hair. I'll get snacks or something, want anything?" Stan handed her the money and asked for gummy bears. Eddie wanted hot Cheetos. "That was like reverse prostitution," Eddie said as Beverly disappeared into the main building.

"Eddie, please don't compare her to a prostitute." Stan's words are gray against Eddies whose were bright and multi-colored like the shorts he wore that morning. "That's why I said 'reverse', Stanley. Bite it." Stan chuckles, pulling Eddie into himself. Eddie hugged Stan back, then turned in a way that allowed him to rest his head in Stan's lap. When Eddie was good and comfortable, he started frowning. He was gonna bring up earlier, Stan predicted, but maybe he didn't know how to start on the topic. "What did Mike tell you?" He started, twisting his fingers up in Eddie's hair and looking off to the side. "He just told me about all the things that happened earlier. Patrick...Richie." It was surprising that 'Richie' was the name that sent Stans shoulders tensing up.

"Look, man, I get that being his neighbor last year fucking traumatized you," Eddie started. Stan sighed, throwing his head back. "But there's no reason for you to hate him so much that you ditched Mike with him." Stan argues that he didn't ditch Mike but Eddie called bullshit."You ditched him, Stan. You ditched Mike and he's been a nervous wreck all day because of it." Eddie started to say more but thought against it. Stan knew what he was gonna say, the realization made his head feel heavy. He had ditched Mike with Richie, and now there was a chance that the two of them had spent all that time together. The one thing Stan didn't want.

"Well, you hate him, too." He argued. "I do not hate Richie. He's fucking stupid, yeah, but I don't hate him. He never did anything, did he?" Eddie rebated. Stan swallowed. "Is that a yes or a no? Did he do something to you? What did he do?" Eddie sat up out of Stan's lap. "What did he do, Stan?" Eddie forced. "It doesn't matter! It's not about him."   
"It's not about him?"  
"No."  
"Okay, then what is it about?"  
Stan inhaled. He felt hot and cold at the same time, everything was so tight and uncomfortable.

"Mike and I have been looking for his shoe all weekend! Then Richie comes in and is just the fucking Knight in shining armor. I knew how important it was to Mike, I took time out of my day to help, Richie didn't. But yet he gets to be the one that found Mikes's shoe." Stan finished.

His eyes burned in their sockets. "So you're jealous?" Eddie began. Stan wanted to scream. "It's not because of Richie, it's because of Mike. You're fucking jealous." He reamed. "Can Mike not have friends outside of you?"-"That isn't what I said."-"That's what you just said." Eddie continues. "Mike isn't some damsel for you to save, Stan. He doesn't owe you anything, neither does Richie." Stan hates how out of control he felt, his emotions rumbled noisily in his stomach. "The second me and Mike fuck up, it's you who's there to tell us to be better. I'm returning the honesty, jackass. Don't ruin your friendship over this." Eddie leaned beside Stan.

It got silent as neither of them knew what to say. Eddie had said what he needed to, it was Stan's turn to speak. He wants to defend himself somehow. But defending himself meant that there was something to defend against. Eddie was right but Stan would rather be lost in the woods than admit that. So he says nothing. Absolutely nothing and the wind punished him for it. "Also, why the fuck is your face so sweaty?" Eddie swore.

Stan groaned and drug his hands down his cheeks, digging his nails into his skin. Suddenly there's an uproar from the cafeteria. Stan and Eddie look to each other and then through the cafeteria window. Inside, the crowd began to radiate towards something, screaming all the while. Teachers pushed their way through, disappearing behind the wall where Stan and Eddie could no longer see them. "Do you see Beverly?" Eddie asked, his eyes looking around frantically. Stan felt something drop in his chest.

The screaming continued as Stan tried to find Beverlys red hair in the sea of heads. He clenched his fists. Please. "Guys!" A voice yelled. They turned to the left and there's Bev. Her arms full of snacks and her smile was hysterical. Stan exhaled upon seeing her. "Guys, you just missed a crazy fucking fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had much to note on lately, huh? I hope your quarantine is going well, I suppose.


	13. Chapter 4: "Even if I'm, like, shitting?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas cringed. "Even if I'm, like, shitting?" Stan tried to ignore the question but failed and laughed at the absurdity.

Stan put his head down. He was in health class and Coach Aurm was doing the yearly survey on bullying. The school prided itself on how they handled violence, it was crazy to Stan that they thought they had a hold on the bullying problem. This morning Patrick Hockstetter walked past him and stuck gum in his hair. He'd had to get it cut out in the infirmary and now the hair in the middle is shorter than the rest. It's gonna peeve him until he can get a proper haircut. Coach went on and asked the standard questions, raise your hand if you've ever been bullied. 

Raise your hand if you've ever been a bully, raise your hand if you apologized to your victim. Stan thinks the whole thing is pointless. Who cares about any of this? Humans will always find a way to be cruel to each other. Stan found that out the hard way last year. "Raise your hand if you would step in and help someone if you saw them being bullied." Stan didn't raise his hand. He was almost asleep, having not gotten much sleep the night before. 

He'd had trouble getting out of bed this morning as well. The day started shittily and continuously got worse as it went on. In reading, Mr. Brynn had paired him up with Bev for the upcoming project. That would've been fine until Beverly said they could just work on it after school and proceeded to do nothing during class. "Raise your hand if you want people to help you when you're being bullied." He kept his hand down again, yawning against the table. Stan had spent Monday treading very lightly, skirting his way around Mike to make sure they didn't argue any more than they had. It had worked for the most part but Mike left during the last ten minutes of lunch and never came back. 

Things got worse that night when Stan couldn't get to sleep. So on, and so forth. Coach Aurm tells them to raise their heads. Stan does so, but not right away, keeping his head down a little longer than everyone else. Eddie poked him in the side. "It isn't nap time, Stan." He prodded. Stan smacked his hand away and then flipped him off discreetly. 

"Leave me alone." Stan mumbles. Eddie does just that, not bothering Stan for the rest of class. "I guess I'll see you later." And Eddie disappeared through the door just as first bell rang. Stan slung his bag over his shoulder, he was leaving when Coach Aurm called to him. "Do you have a moment, Stanley? I'll write you an excuse to class if the bell rings again." Stan said it was no problem and went over to his desk. "I couldn't help but notice that you hardly raised your hand during the survey earlier. Is everything alright?" Kids from Coach Aurms fourth period came flooding in.

Stan opened his mouth to say some kind of excuse but Aurm spoke over him. "I understand that when you were in my class last year some...unsatisfactory things happened but you didn't even raise your hand when I asked if you wanted people to help you." The old man's eyes are dark and piercing, he felt naked under them. "Why is that?" Stan lamented over his answer. He didn't want to say too much but he also knew that if he didn't say enough, Aurm would keep him here longer. "Because," Stan started. "If I'm in a bad situation then that's on me. When people help others it just gets them hurt." Coach Aurm sighed in time with the ring of second bell.

Stan takes his pass and left.

At lunch, he and Mike sit down quietly at their table. Stan stares at his friend expectantly. Today was Mikes's science test. They hadn't studied very much yesterday because Mike thought he was good. His silence today told differently. "How many problems did you miss?" Stan asked, taking a drink from his water bottle. Mike finally looked up. "I fell asleep during the test." He looked like he might cry. "Really now? Wonder why." Mike kicked him under the table. Stan yelped and the librarian shushed them. 

"You're an asshole." Mike established, his eyes glassing over. "Well, what did you think was gonna happen when you emptied your medication, Mike?" Stan reamed. "I thought I could handle it." Mikes lip trembled. "I'd been doing so good and then one night I tried to take my medicine and I just...I couldn't. I knew I should have but I just couldn't." So he poured his pills in the toilet and watched them swirl down the drain. Mike had no trouble going to sleep for the next two nights. Now, sleep was an uphill obstacle course. Including parkour with a rocky relationship, and wall climbing around anxiety.

"Well," Stan pinched his lips in a line, the air around them is cold. "I hope you're happy." But Mike looked the opposite as he stood up from the table. His chair screeched as it slid against the wood. "So this is what we're doing? You want to hurt my feelings, Stan, you'll have to try a lot harder." Mike started to gather his stuff. Rushing his jacket back on. "I'm not a fucking crybaby, unlike some people." He picked up his tray and promptly left. 

There is silence. 

Stan felt like he might suffocate under his emotions. He was losing his friendship with Mike and for what? A year-old grudge and bad emotional habits? How easy would it be to go and apologize to Mike? Stan wanted to. He wanted to tell Mike that he was also having trouble getting to sleep, that he didn't want to hurt his feelings. But Stan simply does what he always does. 

Around twenty minutes later, the bell rung and first lunch ended. Just as break began, Stan heard voices sound off in the hall. It was an argument by the sounds of it, the voices increasingly getting louder until one of them had the bright idea to bring the argument into the library. Stan was gonna 'shush' them but he hesitated when he saw that it was Bev and Richie. "You following me around isn't gonna make me talk to you, jackass." Beverly seethed. "Talking and listening are two different things." He shot back. The librarian looked up from her papers, staring at the two of them angrily. 

Richie saw that she was looking and shrunk down. "Fine. You win, Bev." He backed away. Giving one last look to Bev and leaving. Beverly inhaled sharply. She paced back in forth momentarily. When she sees Stan, a mask falls over her. The nervousness melted away unnaturally. 

A smile taking place of the frown that she wore seconds earlier. "Hey, Stanley. What are you doing in the library by yourself?" Good question. "I don't like eating in the cafeteria." He answered, his head still down. "Mind if I sit with you, then? The cafeteria isn't exactly calling to me either right now." She chuckled, sitting down. They sat in silence for a while, Beverly was tapping her nails on the table while Stan had his head in his hands. He suddenly felt so tired but Beverly's tapping was relentless on his ears. He gave up on sleep and sat up. 

Stan studied her. She had one hand beating on the table and the other in her mouth, chewing on the nail. Stan cringed. "Did you know that the librarian is an alien?" Stan said. Beverly perked up. "An alien?" She questioned, looking past Stan to Ms. Pepper. The librarian who had bright blue skin and brighter blue eyes. 

"Yeah, an alien. She's blind but she has bionic hearing and where she's from, people are executed for making loud noises." Stan stares at Bevs tapping fingers. "That's crazy." She said breathlessly, eyes still trained to Ms. Pepper who was unbothered as always. "Yeah, crazy." Stan coughed. "Hm?" Bev hummed, finally noticing what Stan was staring at. "Oh I get it, you're fucking with me. Is my tapping annoying, Staniel?" She tapped a little louder but then Ms. Pepper actually turned to them, giving her trademark stare. Technically it wasn't a stare since Stan hadn't lied about the blind part but it had the same effect. Beverly stopped tapping.

"How crazy would that be, though? Being executed for making loud noises." He rested his jaw in his hand, mind wandering off. Beverly brought him back with a giggle. "I wonder if we could somehow get Richie Tozier there. He wouldn't even last a minute." She heckled, tracing the wood lines with her finger. Stan chuckled under his breath, "You say that like it's a bad thing." Beverlys smile spread to Stan. It's the first time he'd smiled all day. "Trust me, we'd be doing the world a serious favor." A phone is ringing in the background. "Agreed," Stan adds, blinking. 

Their feelings about Richie are mutual and they bond over it briefly, as the librarian put the phone down and called out; "Beverly Marsh? You're needed in the principal's office, honey." Stan and Beverly looked at each other skeptically. She stood up hesitantly. "What did you do?" He mouthed to her. Beverly's eyes blew up, shoulders shrugging. "I don't fucking know." She whispered. "See you later, Stan." Beverly waved, exiting the library in a confused flurry. He watched her go, maybe he would see her later. 

The next time he sees her, it's not because he'd been looking for her, it's because he'd been avoiding Mike. Stan had walked past him after the final bell rung and saw that he was sitting with Richie and Eddie. The three of them laughing. Stan pushed down the hurt and trudged on, deciding he would take Bev up on her offer of working on the project. She was walking alongside Ben up towards the front of the crowd. Ben sees him first, waving him over. "And then-" Bev was saying. 

Her face was bright red and the smile she wore was manic. "Stan! Hey, man! You will fucking never believe why I got called up to the office." She asked Ben if he minded her telling the story again and he shook his head. "It's whatever." He chirped. Beverly recalled the events of earlier in a fast, hyped up manner. She had to pause as the entered the east building because upperclassmen were there handing out Halloween brochures. It was a catalog with all the costumes students could order. If you wanted a costume, you had to order it before next week. 

The trio scan through them, scaling the stairs and turning right towards the boys' dorm. Beverly got a pass from management and then the three of them go to Stan's room where Bev continued her story. Apparently, one of the girls who'd gotten into a fight over the weekends' name was also Beverly. "But our names are spelled different, Ben let me use your arm." Ben obliged. She scribbled out the names and then turned Bens arm to Stan so he could see. "I'm Beverly and she's Beverlie and it screwed with their tiny adult minds." Stan laughed. "No, seriously man, I was in there for like a fucking hour because they didn't believe it wasn't me. They had to call in Max to give them an ID." She gesticulates.

"Ben I meant to talk to you about that. Max is in drama club with you, right?" Chubs shrugged sadly. "Not after the fight. It wasn't even her fault, either." Ben reaches into his backpack and pulled out a rolled-up poster board. "They got into a fight because Beverlie thought that Max had been banging on the wall at night. It was so stupid." Bev had been in the cafeteria when the fight broke out. She recalled the events in detail. "The only reason Max lost is because Otherbev kept pulling her hair." Ben nodded in agreement. "That's why you braid your hair before you fight someone, that's just common knowledge," Stan replies. Reaching up and messing with his ghetto-cut hair. 

"And how many times have you braided your hair before a fight?" She teased him. Ben chuckled from where he sat. "That's what the girls did, at least. I used to Box." He stated casually. That seemed to be a big deal for his two friends, however, because Beverly and Ben froze where they were. Looking to Stan in awe. "You're a boxer?" Ben puzzled. Stan shrugged, "I guess I sorta was. I never did anything serious. It was just something my dad did when he was a kid and he wanted me to be like him," Yet Stan prided himself on how much he wasn't like his dad.

He'd hated boxing so much, if his mom had been around, she would've let him quit. Stan boxed from when he was ten to thirteen and he has the scars to prove it. "A Jewish fist-fighter." He breathed, his voice sounded far away. "Oh my god!" Beverly laughed. "And you're Jewish?"  
—-  
For better, or for worse, Mike and Stan aren't talking to each other. They woke up Wednesday morning and got ready without a word. Stan felt something heavy weighing on his chest. Beverly somehow makes it better, sitting with him in the lounge during breakfast. They work on their projects. It was an easy enough task, they'd just gotten through reading and translating "A Midsummers Night Dream" by Shakespeare in class and now they had to make a runway look inspired by each of the characters. Bev was having a hay day with the assignment because she wanted to do costume design as a living. 

It was the first time he'd ever heard her talk about something so passionately. Breakfast sped away and they walked to homeroom together, almost finishing the project in first period alone. Things go smoothly right up till his seventh period. Stan sucked at social studies so the school put him in an easier class. The problem with that was, the kids in his seventh period didn't want to be there. They were assholes and none of them ever did their work. All they did was argue with the teacher, get sent into the hall, or talk shit(this was just a generalization, but still). 

And Wednesday afternoon, they had done all three. Stan had started to ignore them but then one of the tenth graders--Moose—said Stephens name. It was a big school, there were probably plenty of Stephens. "Which Stephen? The white one?"-"Nah man, the bitch with the dreads." Stan felt his chest seize up. He didn't want to hear what they were saying. Stevie didn't deserve to be slandered. "I heard he's gay." Stan clenched his fists.

"Heard from where?"  
"They sayin' him and some clubhouser was in the gym closet yesterday-"  
"Stephen was getting some head."  
The boys broke into laughs. The noise is harsh on Stan's ears. "Ew, Moose, what the fuck?" They sniggered. "I thought all the gay people was dead anyway."-"Yeah, aids killed them all, right?" The teacher hushed them without result. "Well, apparently not."   
"That shit is disgusting."  
"For real, though."

Stan raised his hand. Mr. Speg(bless that man's heart)called on him. "Bathroom," Stan said, standing up to get a pass. Stan skips the rest of class. Shacking up in the bathroom and just...sitting. He can't explain why but for some reason, he started crying. He started crying as if someone had died.   
Stan didn't want Stephen to be gay. He couldn't believe it, there was no way it was true. The final bell rings and Stan goes back for his stuff, not surprised when Speg wrote him up for skipping class. Silent lunch tomorrow? Stan could deal with that. Stan, however, could not deal with the rumors floating around. His next stop was the laundromat. 

He was going to get facts straight from the source. He stopped by the downstairs bathroom first. Washed his face in some cold water, making sure he didn't look like he'd been crying. The quiet is heavy in the laundromat this afternoon. It's almost as cold as outside, Stan tried to make that the reason it was so empty. Stephen has his head down, head facing Lucas who was right beside him. The two boys whispered amongst themselves.

Lucas waved solemnly at Stan as he approached. "Hey, Stevie." He said carefully. Stephen rose his head. He had his hair pulled back in a ponytail. Stan always thought his hair looked good like that. "Hey, Stan." He blinked. "So, um..." Stan danced on his tippy toes. 

"How's your day going"-"Don't be a bitch." He interrupted. Stan couldn't meet his eye. "You know, don't you?" Lucas scooted closer to Stevie so that their shoulders touched. Stan gulped, "I don't know anything. it's just a rumor, it isn't true." His heart raced. Stephen, exhaled and let his shoulders fall. He leaned back in his seat, putting his hands in his lap. 

"And what if it is? What if it is true? Stephen Perez has been nothing but a big, flaming, fag all along." His voice broke. Stan had felt so heavy upon entering the room. Now he simply felt nothing, he didn't know where he stood in the middle of all this. He opened his mouth to speak, "Then you're stupid. A fucking idiot in all advanced classes." Stevie and Lucas shared a look. "Why did you think that was a good idea? You've been going here for three years and you're telling me the only place you knew to go and get your dick sucked was the gym closet?" His voice bounced off the walls and hit him in the back. He leaned over the desk. 

"You could've went behind the school and had a better chance of not getting caught. The bathrooms, the lightbox in the auditorium, the library!"-Stephen choked out a laugh-"All of those places would've worked but you chose the fucking gym closet." Stan licked his lips, they were dry. Stephens laugh faded into light sobs as he looked up to Stan and showed him the tears running down his cheeks. "I've heard a lot of hurtful things today," He cried. "But I honest to god can't fucking tell if this is you telling me to fuck off, or that we're good." His eyes drooped sadly. "So what's happening, Stan? Should I fuck off, or are we good?" Stanley furrowed his eyebrows, looking upon Stephen made him realize there was nothing different about him. He was the same kid that introduced him to Eddie last year, the same Stevie that broke Mikes leg while playing football, the same kid that taught Stan breathing exercises so that he could go between classes without having a meltdown. You don't just wake up one morning and realize that you like guys. 

No, this has always been Stevie all along, and there's this relentless voice in his head that's screaming; 'And you knew that? Didn't you?' He was a big, flaming, fag the whole time. "We're good." Stan breathed, letting his lips fall up into a smile. Stevie smiles too, a rather sad smile. He seemed like he couldn't believe it. Stan couldn't believe it either, everything today had felt so unbelievable. "I'm gonna go refill my water bottle, do you want to"-"Oh, no, I needed to talk to Stan for a moment." Lucas scoots forward so Stevie can get around the desk without problem. "Oh, okay I guess." He walked out and once he was close enough, he pulled Stan into a hug. It scared him at first, his heart pounded uselessly in his chest. 

But Stevie was so warm, so cuddly. He let himself melt, resting his head on Stevie's shoulder. "Thank you." He whispered. The breath on his ear sent a shiver through his spine. When Stephen is gone and Lucas and Stan are left alone in the laundromat, Lucas' smile faltered and he suddenly looked very sad. "Hey, Stan. I know we don't really...know each other." They'd had some classes together last year but never really spoke. "But this week has been, like, really fucking stressful. I had to break up with my girlfriend on Monday"-Stan hummed in agreement-"and now she won't give me back my hoodie. I bought that hoodie with my own money, I've had it for years. It means a lot to me, man, and she's ignoring all the notes I leave her." Stan wondered where all of this is leading. 

"I guess I'm just hoping you could help me?" Lucas finished, looking up to Stan with pleading eyes. "Help you with what?" Stan asked, leaning his body against the wall. He could feel the cold of it through his clothes. Lucas scratched his neck, "Like, find where she's hiding it for me? At least if I know where it is I could go and get a manager or something." Stan sucked his teeth, "I can't help you man, sorry." Lucas seemed taken back by the answer, he hadn't been expecting rejection. "C'mon Stan, I'm being serious. It won't hurt you." Stan met eyes with Lucas, making his expression flat. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying," Stan debated. "It's not that I don't want to help you, it's that I literally can not." Lucas cocked his head. 

"I thought you could see through walls?"  
"Never said I could see through walls."  
"Yes, you..." The words falter on Lucas' tongue. Stan raised an eyebrow. "Alright, then what can you do?" He sighed and put his palm out for Lucas to take. "Here." Lucas hesitated. "I'm not fucking with you, man, here." The other boy gave up, laying his hand over Stan's. He pulled his hand back beside himself, "Alright. Now that I've touched you, doesn't matter if it's ten minutes from now or ten years, I'll always know where you are." Lucas cringed. "Even if I'm, like, shitting?" Stan tried to ignore the question but failed and laughed at the absurdity. He shook his head and continued, "At no point did I come in contact with your hoodie, therefore I can't find it for you." Lucas thought the whole thing over for a moment.

"Shit."  
"Mmhm."  
"That sucks."  
"Mmhm."  
At that moment Stephen came back from the water fountains, taking a sip from his water bottle. Lucas and Stan stared at him intensely. "The fuck you two looking at?" He cursed, walking up and throwing his arm around Stan. He spends most of the afternoon in the laundromat with those two. He found himself relaxing more and more as the night went on and the three of them traveled from the laundromat to the cafeteria. They got their food and had to ignore the slurs being thrown at them(at Stevie)as they ate outside. It was insane to think that today had been a mostly good day and he had went through it completely without Mike. He wonders if he could make the night better, as he purposely knocked into Bastion Skies and other hall monitors. 

Stan thinks he might want to see the stars tonight, as he made sure to high five the sixth-grade hall monitor. Maybe he was asking for too much. But he hardly got sleep these days anyway, where's the harm in doing something productive with his night? Mike comes in among the stragglers of boys who like to push the limit of the curfew. He looks at Stan like he might say something but quickly decided against it and changed into pajamas, laying down in bed. Stan plopped a piece of gum in his mouth and waited. He was sitting completely erect on his bed, anxious and unsure of himself.

Stan swam around the ocean of school, his head not in the clouds but somewhere in the halls. Watching as the kid patrolling row E moved up to D. He took his chance, putting his slippers on quietly. He wandered over to the door and twisted the knob, it creaked but the monitor didn't notice the noise. Mike stirs behind him but doesn't say anything. Stan opened the door and stepped out into the hall, shivering with anticipation. He carefully closed the door and wandered on, hiding on the wall separating the different halls when the monitor wrapped back around E. "Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update tomorrow because my access to a computer is coming to an end. Love you all. thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 5: "How about I fuck your mom instead?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How 'bout I fuck your mom instead?" Richie rebutted. Having realized what he just said, Richie slapped his hand over his mouth.

He held his breath, wait, wait, wait, go! Stan shuffles quickly down the corridor, his mind was screaming at him. He was down the stairs, in the lobby, then outside the building entirely. It was chilly but not cold. Stan wished he'd brought a blanket regardless. He sat down on the steps and exhaled. He was shaking but not from the weak breeze that shuddered over him. 

He looked up at the sky and smiled. The stars twinkled lovingly at him. He laughed at the idea. He wondered if Mike would be beside him right now if things were different. If Stan weren't so afraid to apologize. Stan thinks he'd trade his whole day in for a shitty one if it meant that Mike would be here right now. Mike would've brought a blanket because Mike had way more sense than Stan did. He would put Stan under his elbow and wrap the blanket around the both of them and they'd watch the stars together.

That isn't what happens, unfortunately. What does end up happening, however, is the door slowly opened and Stan froze up. He thought to himself, 'well this is it, my life is over, my dad is gonna murder me' "St-Stan?" He heard a voice whisper above his head. It's Bill, Stan can tell from the sound of his voice. He turned his head slowly, watching as Bill emerged from the dark building into the luminous stars. The light sat on his features well, showing off the height of his cheeks bones and the sharpness of his jaw. He was lovely, really. 

Stan found himself trying to be annoyed, to see Bill and absolutely shudder with annoyance. He was just too tired to care. Bill was here and Stan honestly didn't mind. "Bill Denbrough," He greeted quietly. "You didn't bring a blanket did you?" Bill seemed far away. Wherever his mind was, it wasn't between him and Stan, filling the chilly October silence. He stood frozen for a moment, not moving until Stan snapped his fingers. 

"Earth to Bill." He said sarcastically. Bill smiled nervously, moving over to the steps and sitting beside Stan with a grunt. He was in his pajamas as well but he'd been smart enough to bring a jacket. The jacket was huge on him, draping down over his knees. "S-Sorry. J-just a s-surprise s-seeing you out h-here." Bill inhaled. "Y-you always a-act s-so adult-ish." He reaches down into his pocket and began fishing around for something. "Just because I act with sense doesn't mean I'm adult-ish," Stan responds, watching as Bill handled a box of cigarettes. 

He flipped the lid open and put a cigarette to his lips, lighting it up and taking a drag. Stan look at Bill with question. The smoke looked unnatural, the way it danced from Bill's lips up into the air. Bill noticed Stan was staring and turned to him. "What?" He asked incredulously. Stan didn't answer for a moment, pulling his knees into his chest and resting his head on them. Even then, he just looked on quietly. 

The smoke flooded in through Stan's nostrils and settled in his lungs. He imagined the way it danced around inside him. "Nothing." He smiled. "You never used to smoke before." Bill thought on that for a minute and laughed. "Y-Yeah I g-guess not. I-I d-don't sm-smoke a lot. Just s-sometimes wh-when it f-feels l-like I'm s-s-suffocating." Bill blew more smoke into the air. "Suffocating, huh?" Stan repeated. "Does smoking help?" 

Bill gives Stan a careful look. He puffed the cigarette again and shrugged, the smoke came out through his nose. "D-do you e-ever f-feel r-really h-heavy?" Explained Bill, his words slowed. "L-like y-you have s-some k-k-kinda w-weight on y-your chest? It makes me feel...m-makes me feel l-l-lighter." He did another thing then. He extended his arm over to Stan, offering up the cigarette. "Tr-try it," Bill said. Stan's eyes flickered from the cigarette to the boy who held it. 

He didn't know what to say. "I've never smoked before." Stan shivered, stretching his legs back out. "Y-you m-might l-l-like it, St-Stan. H-here." Bill scoots closer to Stan, pushing the cig in his face. Stan hesitates but takes it anyway, bringing it slowly up to his lips. "B-be c-careful. I-if you h-hit it t-t-too hard you m-might st-start"-Stan's throat began to burn and coughing made it worse-"c-coughing..." bill laughed softly at Stan.

"That fucking burned, man."  
"I-I was tr-trying to w-warn you, j-jackass. You h-have to st-start sl-slow. Just br-breath and h-hold it in."  
"Hold it in?"

"N-not like y-you're holding your breath. L-like you're br-breathing." Stan seemed skeptical but tried again. This time following Bill's instructions. "J-just br-breathe." Stan took a deep breath. The smoke was oddly comfortable in his lungs. On the exhale, he could see it cascade out of his nose. "Th-there you g-go." He took another drag and this time the exhale felt even better. It was like he was breathing for the first time in his life. 

He felt good and it was because of Bill Denbrough of all people. Had this been last week, Stan wouldn't have even let Bill be this close to him, let alone share a cigarette with the boy. But here they are, laughing and smoking. Bill was convinced that the two of them could fit in his jacket because of how big it was. Stan argues with him over it, debating that there was no way. He was mid-sentence when Bill unzipped his jacket, pulled Stan closer, and zipped it up over the both of them. He paused, noticed just how warm the jacket was, and looked over to Bill. The kid was smirking.

Stan wiggles his hand through the armhole and flipped Bill off. Bill found this hysterical and spent five minutes laughing over it. Stan just watched him with a smile, laughing himself when Bill let out the ugliest wheeze. He fell back with laughter and the weight sent Stan back as well, the both of them landing on their backs. They fell into hysterics, calming down periodically only to look at each other and start laughing again. They finally get quiet after a while but it doesn't last long. For Bill cleared his throat and began with a new topic. 

"Y-you d-don't actually h-hate me d-do you, Stan?" He concluded. Stan looked at him. For some reason he expected this to be a gag and for Bill to start laughing. Bill seemed serious, however, and no laughing took place. "Why does everyone always think I hate them?" Asked Stan, matching Bill's seriousness. Bill would've shrugged if they weren't laying down. "B-because th-that's how y-you act." Stan grimaced. 

"H-hear me out o-on th-this, man. We w-were l-like this l-last y-year in A-August." Bill pulled his hand out from under the jacket. "This!" His fingers were crossed. "W-we w-were s-so cl-close and th-then you m-moved out of h-health and st-stopped t-talking to me. And wh-when we f-finally d-did start t-talking again, y-you're distant." Stan caught himself in an eye roll. "Y-you were distant a-and you were m-mean. You st-started t-talking to m-me l-like I w-was some annoying y-younger c-cousin." Bill breathed for a moment. "Th-this is the f-first time w-we've hung out in a y-year." Stan closed his eyes. He can see himself one year ago. His hair had been a lot longer. 

Him and Bill flooding out of health class when the bell rung and running to the gym to get the baseballs. It had been a ritual, playing baseball every afternoon. They would play and bullshit around till dinner where they split off because Stan didn't eat in the cafeteria even then. But they would see each other again before the night ended. Saying goodnight as Bill went home to his roommate and Stan went home to his. Bill and Stan had been close, but Stan had a habit of ruining his friendships. He had a habit of causing chaos. He felt nauseous at that thought. 

"I'm sorry." He said truthfully, feeling his eyes burn. "I thought you hated me after what happened." Bill shook his head. "N-no." He said. "I th-thought you w-were brave."  
—-  
There's some sort of irony in the following events. Stan and Bill both get sick the next morning. They spend Thursday and Friday in the infirmary. Eddie called them dumbasses when Bill told him the actual reason they were sick. Unlike Bill, Stan started feeling better on Saturday but he still had a fever when Sunday rolled around. Stan had been upset about that because Sunday was a Townday and missing it had meant missing his chance for a haircut. While Mike is gone, Bill crawled over in a blanket cocoon and the two of them made a pallet on the floor. 

They laugh some more about attracting the plague and then moved to the events of last year. Pondering where they went wrong and how they could do better in the future. What happened was this; Stan had spent his day in the front office explaining to the principal why he had come back from the bathroom break between periods beat up. He had to do so without snitching on Patrick Hockstetter and he spends three hours skirting around the details of his blackened eye. He went home that night exhausted. He'd come through his door, ignored his roommate entirely, and landed face-first on his bed. Stan thought crying was supposed to make you tired, if that had been the case, he'd have been out as soon as his body felt mattress. 

But he was awake well into the night. Mind held hostage by the music that boomed next door. Yes, but this happened every night, didn't it? Stan wouldn't say anything because it was Bill and Stan was really starting to enjoy Bill's company. But tonight Stan just wanted to sleep. The day had been so entirely infuriating that even the music(that didn't even bother him that much after getting used to it)was enough to send him hurtling over the edge. He jumped up and out of his room and stomped next door. 

The next events happen in quick succession; He bangs on the door and Richie answers right away. The light in their dorm is on so Stan can see the layout pretty clearly. Bill is sat up in bed squinting at him. But Stan isn't paying attention to him because his eyes have landed on the boom box. It was even louder the closer he was. God, how did they sleep like that? "Stan?"-"Hey, Richie?! I have tried being nice about this, but I swear to fucking god," He raged. "If you don't turn your fucking music down I am going to blow up on you." Younger Stan had said. Eighth grade Richie isn't wearing his glasses but he can tell from the voice that it's Stan. 

Context clues provided the rest. "Nice? You call banging on the door at—fucking, Bill what time is it?" Bill looked at the time, rubbing his eyes. "Twelve fifty-five"-"Twelve fifty-five, one in the morning basically! This is nice to you? Polite? What the fuck." Richie swore. He wasn't looking at Stan completely, his eyes were pointed in his general direction. "The nice thing to do would've been to fuck off and just go to bed. But no, you just had to ruin the night for everyone." Richie yawned into his hand. "Tomorrow you can try again with your fucking manners and then I'll think about turning my goddamn music down," Stan remembers this night quite well. Bill was foggy in comparison. "I r-remember you p-p-pushing him." He said. 

Stan nodded, he could almost feel Richie's t-shirt between his fingers again. "You sh-shoved him inside and th-then you s-said something."-"I said something like; Is that mannerable enough for you?"-"Yeah Yeah, and then-" Stan goes over to the boom box and turns it down. It only gets worse as Bill and Richie start yelling at the same time. Ninth-grade Stan wriggled closer to Bill, "Richie said some fucked up things that night."

"H-he s-said something a-about b-being friends with H-Hockstetter."

"-He said he could get Patrick to be me up again." Stan coughed. His throat was scratchy from coughing so much. "R-Richie w-was d-different l-last y-year, m-man." Bill tried. "He said he would help do it." Stan curled in a little tighter. His throat closed up the way it did last year. "H-he w-was d-d-different." Insisted Bill. "Th-that was h-him a-after two y-years of b-being brainwashed by b-b-bowers. H-he was w-worse in s-seventh grade." Stan and Bill look at each other. Looking in Bill's eyes made him remember the way they looked that night, red from being abruptly pulled out of sleep. 

Puffy, almost. His voice shouting for Stan to leave among other things. He'd been stuttering so much but the main thing eighth-grade Bill had said was; "You can't do this Stan. You can't come to my dorm, push my roommate, and then look at me to pick sides." Stan had went red. "I need you to go." That was the short version of the night. The longer version goes on for about an hour and hall monitors get involved. Stan doesn't go back to bed till three in the morning. Even then, he had big plans for the next day. 

"Richie is b-better n-now. S-So much b-better. M-me and h-him, we have our f-fights. We d-don't always agree w-with th-the other." Bill turns and looks up at the ceiling. "S-sometimes wh-when we w-walk-in th-the hall, I c-catch h-him tr-trying to p-push the l-little sixth graders." Stan listened closer. "H-he d-doesn't notice h-he's d-d-doing it. It used t-to be s-second n-nature f-for him. I wish y-you'd t-talk to h-him. H-he'd probably apologize for th-that n-night." Stan doesn't think so. As much as he hated Richie, Richie hated him too. It just wouldn't work. "And then I spent all Saturday in the dorm offices convincing them to let me move dorms." Bill nodded as he remembers watching Stan move his stuff. 

"Y-you m-m-moving?" He'd asked.  
"What does it look like, Denbrough?" Stan said flatly. That was the last thing Stan said to Bill for about five months. Monday, Stan goes and has his schedule changed, they put him in gym with the promise of health again during ninth grade. For the first three days, he goes about it by himself. Quietly getting through this period without saying anything to anyone. But it just so happened that he shared this class with a boy the other guys called 'Stevie'.

"Fuck."  
"F-fuck."  
Stan looked over at Bill and smiled. "I'm sorry, man." He said. The apology was way past its due date. It was crunchy, burnt around the edges, but an apology none the less and Bill smiles back. "M-me t-too, Stan. I'm sorry." They spend the rest of the afternoon riding out the fever. Shivering even through their skin, but happy. When Mike comes home he says hi to Bill and hi to Stan and Stan says; "Hey." And then Mike says that some kids went missing during the trip and Stan sits up and says; "What!?" This is the first time they've spoken in four days and it's Mike retelling the story of two sixth-graders, two seventh-graders, three eighth-graders, and an eleventh grader. 

All of them gone. 

"They weren't on my bus but apparently they were on Bens. Ben said that they didn't even look at each other during the ride there." Mike explained. "Do you mind if I change, Bill? We went to some of the different malls down there. Walking around was fun but my pits fucking reek." Mike began to change, neither Bill or Stan commenting on it as they'd both seen their fair share of skin. "You're being really cool about those kids going missing, Mike," Stan observed. "You'd think that you would care more."

"Because they didn't go missing. The teachers say they ran."  
"You didn't say that at first-"  
"-So you're just gonna dissect every fucking syllable I pronounce?" Mike snapped. Stan opened his mouth to speak but no words emerge. The silence is thick momentarily. Mike had never spoken like that before, it threw Stan for a loop. "No?" He said like it was obvious. "W-Why w-w-would they r-run away if they w-w-were o-on the bus ignoring e-e-each other?" Bill piped up from his spot on the floor. Stan looks from Bill to Mike expectantly.

"I don't know, man. I'm just trying not to think about it. New York is a scary place, don't know why anyone would want to try their luck on the streets." They nodded in silent agreement. The conversation is left at that and the building settles under its new weight.  
—-  
Stan's life was in a perpetual downward spiral. 

Not talking to Mike was life's way of testing the waters for how much bullshit it could put Stan through. Testing the waters wasn't enough, now life had taken its chances in the deep end. The place where your feet never touch the bottom but hover inches above it. Stan forgot he'd gotten silent lunch last week. He spends his midday in the library with Beverly celebrating the recent completion of their project. They laugh and joke and about halfway through break, Stan says to Bev that he feels like he's forgetting something. Bev assured him that he was fine and that whatever it was, he'd remember it later. 

Later comes in the form of Mr. Speg, who looked his lone energy source was a mixture of black coffee and cold showers. He'd pulled Stan out into the hall during the seventh period and said that he could understand how Stan forgot his silent lunch during his sick spell. "But you skipped my class, Stanley. You're one of the only kids that make this job easy on me and you skipped my class. So you'll have silent lunch tomorrow and that's that." All well and good, Stan thought. He had an adult mentality, he never did things unless he knew without a doubt that he could handle the consequences. All well and good, right? Stan goes through the lunch line with Bev, gets his food, and then broke off from her to go to the ISS room.

He'd been in trouble a few times but never anything past silent lunch. Other kids—such as Richie Tozier who was currently staring at Stan with big, blown-out eyes—can't say the same. Stan swallowed but other than that, kept a stone face as he took a seat. He ate his lunch with his head held down and then rested his head on his arm, going farther into his own mind. Trying to touch his feet to the bottom. "Psst." He heard overhead. He peaked up and seen it was Richie.  
The kid was smiling, wildly so. His hair tangled around his head, god, did he know what a brush was? Stan puts his head back down. "Awe, c'mon Stan! Look! Look!" He whispered loudly. Stan argued with himself. This was the perfect opportunity to do what Bill had told him to. He could talk to Richie right now, end the invisible feud that had been culminating over the year. 

He lifted his head up and as he did, a paper ball came whistling towards him. It hit him in the forehead and then bounced into the floor. He stared at it, mouth agape. He was almost in shock. Richie was obviously the perpetrator, his hand still outstretched in a throwing position. Stan stares at the ball blankly. "Why? Why would you do that?" He asked, looking directly into Richie's eyes. 

He wondered how he looked without his glasses. "I'm sorry." He had to pause to laugh. "I was bored." Stan blinked two times. "You were bored? Go fuck yourself."  
"How 'bout I fuck your mom instead?" Richie rebutted. Having realized what he just said, Richie slapped his hand over his mouth. Stan sat in awe, quietly understanding what Richie had just implied and then choked. "What?" Stan tried saying but it was distorted by another cough followed by a stifled laugh. 

Richie gingerly let his hand fall from his face, looking at Stan with wide eyes. "Was that a laugh?" He grinned. Stan took a deep breath and turned to Richie. With his best straight face, he says; "No."He coughed out another laugh. He muffled it by putting his head down. Richie hesitated to laugh. "Oh god, did I finally do it? I finally broke you, Stan, I'm so sorry." 

"Usually by this point, we're fucking arguing or something or you call me stupid." He says this despite his relaxed smile. It told that he was relieved that the latter hadn't happen. "I'm just..." Stan thought. "I'm tired of fighting with people. Don't get me wrong, Tozier, you annoy me to hell and back but I'm sick of people thinking I hate them." The snores of Mr. Tinner are the only noises in the ISS room for a moment. It seemed like Richie didn't know what to say. Stan sighed and opened his mouth, "Do you remember last year? Before I moved?" He asked. Richie looked down at the ground and shrugged. 

"Start to finish." He says quietly. "I was an asshole to you." His hand twitched. "Yeah, But So was I." Stan agreed. "We were both assholes." He added. When Richie meets Stan's eyes, he's surprised to see him smiling. He swallowed and then said, "Uh, hey. What are you doing on Saturday? Me and Bill and Ben were gonna have this sleepover thing so they can go over stuff for drama club." Richie reaches up and straightened his glasses on his nose. "You could come."  
"Maybe." Stan thought aloud.Mr. Tinner at the very front of the room sat up. 

The room turned to him and he glared back. "Please go to the sleepover. That way I won't have to hear this stupid conversation anymore." He said seriously. Stan felt the blood rush to his face. Richie was blushing too but laughing. "Guess that settles it." He surmised, looking to Stan for confirmation. Stan was tired of fighting people.  
—-  
This is how he starts his apology to Mike the next night. It's eight-thirty, Mike had been given a warning pass for not paying attention to the curfew and was busy looking at it. But Stan's mind had been pacing. Back in forth over what to say, how to make it sincere, how to make it real. Stan settles on; "I'm tired of fighting people," He said it quietly at first. Then a second time louder to get Mikes attention. "You're what?" Mike asked from his seat on his bed. 

Stan stood. "I'm tired of fighting people. I'm tired of...of fighting you." He swallowed. "You're my best friend, seriously my best friend and I've been so mean to you and I don't know why. At first, I thought it was because of uh...because of you being all friendly with Beverly after what happened in the laundromat but then me and Beverly got better." Mike cocked his head and put the warning pass down. "Then I thought...I thought that maybe I was annoyed about the shoe thing and like, right up until a few hours ago I thought it was Richie." He laughed nervously. "But I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's all bullshit. Me being mad at you," Mike nodded in agreement. "Being mad at Bill and Beverly and Richie. All of it! Bullshit." Stan inhaled and sat back down on his bed. "I'm sorry Mike. I'm seriously sorry and I hope you can forgive me." The silence stretched on. 

Mike's eyes were big, staring at Stan questioningly. Neither of them could read the other, as Stan was staring too. Mike ended the quiet by smiling tightly, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well. Thank you, Stan." He said curtly. "Thank you so much for that apology." Mike's shoulders relaxed. He took his socks off and kicked them into the floor. Stan tried to pretend that it didn't bother him. 

"Your welcome! So um...are we good?" He questioned, put off by how nonchalant Mike was acting. Mike pauses in the middle of laying down to look back up at his roommate. "I don't know...I don't know."

"But I apologized."  
"Yeah well, saying 'I'm sorry 'doesn't erase the fucking drawing board, does it?" Mike said crisply. His eyes were glossed over. "I was being serious about thanking you for apologizing. You have no idea how good it is hearing you own up to your actions but it's just like..." Mike fell back on his bed. "I'm still mad at you." He told Stan truthfully. "I just need some time, alright?" Promised Mike. Stan nodded and reached over to turn off the light. His hand was trembling. "I just need some time..." The light goes off and Stan wondered if he should say something back or not. But Stan was tired of fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I miscounted the chapters left. Tomorrow will be the final update + end story notes.


	15. Chapter 6: "It's not like it's Russia's plan to nuke the planet. "

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took it and looked at it in his hands. It was too dark to read. "You can read it if you want. It's not like it's Russia's plan to nuke the planet. Just get it to Bev, okay?" Richie instructed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter.

Stan jetted into the woods. Ben was beside him. "Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven!" Stan sees a tree that looks promising but then Ben points towards a boulder. It was huge, half of it stuck into the ground but the rest emerged over top. Big enough to hide behind, just not for two people. "Twenty-three, twenty-two..." Ben took a stuttery step towards the rock, looking back to Stan in a panic. "Go, go, go. I'll find somewhere else." Stan moved from the tree. 

It seemed like a bad spot in comparison to the rock. Ben nodded at him and hunched down, disappearing around the boulder. Stan continued past the trees. The sound of Eddie counting getting fainter the farther he got. From where he was, he could see Beverly tucking herself in a bush and Mike laying flat on the ground. A thick blanket of flora sprouting over him.

"Thirteen, twelve, ten...ten? Nine? Eight..." Stan panicked and threw himself into a dugout ditch. It was like someone had taken a spoon full out of the earth. It was a horrible spot but it was all he had. Stan heard shuffling above him. He wondered if it was Eddie but then he realized it couldn't be because he could still hear counting. He looked up and saw Richie. Richie gave Stan a pleading look. 

Stan returned the look in glare form, shaking his head slowly. The standing boy panicked and as Eddie counted 'two', Richie leaped down on top of Stan. Stan just about screamed but caught himself because now the counting had ceased and the only noise in the woods was the tiny crunching of leaves. He turned his attention back to Richie, trying to squirm out from under the boy. "Get off me, dipshit." He whispered. But Richie didn't say anything, just continued to pin Stan under him. 

The woods are quiet for five minutes. Five whole minutes of Richies tangled hair scratching his face. Then the footsteps stop and Eddie says, "Hey Bev," and Beverly burst out into laughter. "Fuck! what gave me away—ow." Beverly said. Stan took the opportunity to shove Richie off and sit up. "I could see your hair sticking up over the top."-"Ow." Stan stood up and wiped off his shirt. "I hate you, Richie. Next time find your own damn spot." Stan looks toward his friends' voices and sees Eddie talking to a bush that had a splash of orange in the middle. 

Ben lifted up out of his hiding spot and Bill makes his way down a tree. "Awe, you didn't like my cuddles, Stan? Your mom always says the complete opposite." Stan paid him no mind as he walked up to join the forming crowd around Beverly the bush. "Ow! Okay, okay!" Beverly said between laughs. "I'm stuck. I'm—Ow!" She tried to yank herself out to no avail. "Stuck. Definitely stuck." She had her legs out and part of her torso. The rest of her was merged with the bush. Richie is laughing in the background while the rest of the kids circle the bush looking for ways to help. 

"Do you know what's stuck?" Ben asked, parting the leaves and inspecting it. "I think—" A yank. "—it's like a combination of my shirt and hair. Ow." Ben told her to stop moving. "M-Mike c-can y-you do s-something?" Ben continued to look for possible exits while the rest of them turn their attention to Mike. He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not Ariel, I can't tell the bush to move." Bill sighed and looked down with Ben. "Could you kill the bush?" Ben asked. "Like, make it crumble or something?" Stan and Eddie said no in unison. 

Confusion floods the other boys momentarily. Then their eyes fall upon Mike, who was clenching his fists. "I don't—I don't kill things. Plants. I can't kill them." He said with a heavy breath. "I'm sorry Bev, I can't help." Stan reached out to touch Mike but Mike pulled away and scratched his arm awkwardly. "M-maybe if w-we p-pull her?" Bill suggested. The bad idea sent a wave of quiet through the group. 

"Big Bill, if you start pulling on me, I will kick the shit out of you." Her voice is muffled by the leaves. "Ow, fucking Ow! Somethings scratching me!" Chaos began to erupt in the group. Richie was making a joke to Bill about tug of war, Mike and Ben were the only ones trying to find a real solution while Eddie and Stan were agreeing that the whole thing was stupid. "Why would you go into a bush of all places, Bev?" Stan questioned seriously. "It doesn't matter," Ben spoke. "All that matters is we get her out. I think I found what's stuck. Your hair is like coiled around this twig right here." Stan stepped closer and upon further inspection, he saw that what Ben said was true. "Looks like you made it worse the more you struggled. We might have to cut your hair." Stan thought Beverly would protest but she didn't seem to mind. 

He absentmindedly started pick at his hair. "Alright. Haircut. What about my shirt?"  
"Are your arms stuck?" Asked Mike.  
"No, but they get scratched whenever I move too much." Ben is asking Eddie to run and get scissors. When he comes back, Beverly instructs Ben on how to cut the tangled hair out. Then Mike instructs all the boys to pull back as many of the branches as they could. Twelve hands reach in and pull. Even Richie stopped with his joking. 

He looks more eager to help than anyone else. "Try now," Mike told. Beverly, in one swift motion, pulled herself free of the bush. She used so much force that it sent her to the ground. She landed painfully on her butt. "There she blows!" Richie spurted. He's in a news reporter voice, taking back one of his hands to cup around his mouth. "Bevvie from the levee comes crashing down! Oh, and here's the water!" Ben—who was unfortunate enough to be wearing a blue hoodie—gets pushed by Richie.  
"Now the whole towns flooded! The whole circus is washing away! The animals! Giraffes and lions and Elephants! Oh, wait that's just Eddies' mom"-"Shut the fuck up." Bev interrupted. "Shut up," Stan said at the same time. "Yeah shut up, asshole," Eddie added. Richies smile didn't back down. "Like music to my ears!" He cooed. "Especially you, Eddie Spaghetti! You little squeaker!" Richie teased. Mike isn't paying them much attention. 

He's helping Bev up and checking her wounds. Everyone(other than Eddie who was in gaged with a game of wack-a-Richie)crowded them. Beverly promised she was fine despite the many scrapes and cuts on her arms. "I've never seen someone get stuck in a bush, man," Mike said laughing, taking her arms in his hands and healing her. "How does something like that even happen?" Beverly laughed too. She seemed surprised herself. "That's the million-dollar question."-"Yeah like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop." Richie broke in. 

Eddies got him by the collar, whacking him in the head periodically. "Shut the hell up, Richie." He reprimanded. Stan looked at Bev's hair. Specifically at the part that was cut. It didn't look bad. You couldn't even tell it was shorter than the rest compared to her head. There were some leftover leaves and twigs tangled in her hair still.  
"Hold on Bev, you have a thing right here." Stan made sure to warn her before reaching out. He isn't sure if she noticed it herself, but sometimes Bev flinched if you moved too quickly towards her. He pulled the twig out of her hair carefully. "I o-once c-counted my l-licks. Y-you r-remember R-Richie? In s-seventh gr-gr-grade?" The new conversation began. "Oh yeah! When Mr. Feeny handed out those suckers and me and you kept them for like a week." Richie added, this made Bill start laughing. Their conversation goes on but Stan finds himself walking off with Bev. Marveling at her hair. 

Short, thick, and wavy. "You don't cut your hair by yourself, do you?" He asked. Stepping over a log that they passed by. "Yeah I do, actually. I just cut it a few days ago. I don't like dealing with long hair." She boasted. "That's really cool." Bev glowed in the compliment. "Thanks!" She smiled. "How'd you learn to do that? Like, did you take a class?" Beverly found that funny and Stan didn't understand why. 

"Uhm, no. Trial and error, my friend trial and error." A nervous chuckle. "So many errors." The memory of a hundred botched haircuts film over her eyes. "But back in Chattanooga my aunt dated this hairstylist and she...he taught me some tricks, so that was cool." Stan nodded along. "So you cut your own hair?" He concluded. "Correct," Beverly answered. Her sneakers crunched the dead leaves. "Do you think you could cut mine?" Stan asked sheepishly. 

It takes Beverly a moment to answer. The sudden quiet makes Stan nervous so he turns to face her, seeing that a smile had possessed her features. She was absolutely beaming. "Is that a yes?"-it's a hell yes!" She agreed happily. "I've never cut curly hair before. Do you mind if I blow dry it?" Stan looked off to the side. "Like right now?"  
"Yeah, like right now. I'm done playing hide n' go seek," Stan smiled.

At that moment Mike comes running up to them, having gotten sucked into the conversation about the number of licks it takes to finish a tootsie pop. "I've come to a conclusion." He began with a harsh breath. His laugh was like an old song that never came on the radio anymore. "Boys are idiots." Stan used to know all the lyrics. "But you're a boy, how does that work?" Beverly asked Mike. Stan watched Richie try his luck at a sneak attack. "He meant boys as in Bill and Richie," Stan added in. 

"Right, Trashmouth?" With that, Mike turned around and gave a questioning glance to the lanky figure. Richie laughed it off, reaching his hand behind his back to give Stan a middle finger. "I read a thing somewhere that said that the prepubescent boy has a brain comparable to that of a dogs." He slung an arm over Mikes's shoulder. The intertwined boys lulled to one side and then to the other. "That explains a lot." Bev coughed obnoxiously, earning a chuckle from Stan. "Wait, you read something?" Eddie harked from deeper in the woods. 

A chorus of laughter erupted. Even Richie laughed, turning to Eddie and saying; "Oh I get it, trash the trashmouth. But how else am I supposed to read your moms love letters, Ed's?" Beverly rolled her eyes. Gently pulling on Stan's sleeve. "I'm gonna go ahead and go. You can come with me if you want." She told him. "Yeah. I'm gonna get out of here before he starts making the dick jokes." That makes Bev laugh and the two of them are off. The duo get comfortable in Bev's dorm. At first, Stan felt weird about going to the girls' side but Beverly didn't feel like carrying all of her shit over to Stan's.

"We don't have cooties, Stan." She teased as he got a pass from a wandering monitor. "You can never be too sure." He replied with a smile. For some reason, it was becoming extremely easy to get along with Bev. He's in her floor and she's above him with a comb and a blow dryer, straightening his hair. She also spritzed him with something that made his hair really soft and fluffy. "What happened here in the middle?" Asked Bev as she made the first cut. "Someone stuck gum in my hair." He answered, moving the straightened hair out of his face. 

His hair seemed so long in its new state. "Gum? Seriously?" She asked breathlessly. "God, some people are just assholes! That reminds me of last week when some racist dickhead thought it would be funny to stick a pencil in this girls afro." Bev continued. A tuft of hair fluttered to the ground. Caught by the towel Bev had placed under Stan before they got started. "She almost decked him. I wish she had." Stan nodded along to her story. "My mom sorta disowned her side of the family because of how racist they were. Not racist so much as ignorant and unwilling to learn." Snip, snip, snip. 

Stan's bangs no longer covered his eyes. 

"Kudos to your mom. She sounds cool as shit." Stan smiles. "Yeah, she was. She died a few years ago." And Stan had seen it. "Holy shit. I'm sorry man." Bev apologized. Stan was twelve years old when he saw his mom three states away get held at gunpoint by Ms. Kathy. "No, it's okay. She didn't suffer." Headshot. "My dad is dead." Bev leveled with him. 

"He wasn't the best person but he was my dad, you know? I loved him. My mom loved him. She just loved me more." Stan doesn't want to know what Bev meant by that. "I got questioned by police when my mom died. That's like the whole reason I'm here. My dad told them I was a mutant and they suggested I come to school for my own safety." He had helped those assholes track down Ms. Kathy and then he had testified against her in court. They repay him by shipping him off to a boarding school. Kathy went to prison, him and his dad buried mom, and the next year he's moved into a room with loud neighbors. "I had to be questioned by police too! They didn't make me testify, though. They just sorta passed me over to my aunt and the two of us bolted out of there. Man, she sent me this letter last week. Over thanksgiving break, she's gonna take me down to Florida. Her new boyfriend has some family down there and apparently, they're loaded." She boasted. Combing through Stan's freshly cut hair. "When you wash it, it'll curl back up again," Stan asked her if she was done already. 

"It's been like an hour." Bev relayed. "Huh." Stan accepted, standing up. He ran his hands through his hair. Looking in the mirror he saw that some of the cuts were still jagged. It wasn't perfect but at least his hair was even and he couldn't get over how soft it felt. He had a good idea, reaching up to part his hair down the middle. "Hey, Bev." He joked. "Wh-wh-who am I?" He turned to face her. 

She got the joke immediately and fell into laughter. "An asshole is who you are." She told him, clasping her hands together. "Okay, jackass. Come here, help me get up your hair." She sent him for the broom. He has to look around for it, finally finding it hidden in a corner downstairs. When Bev's floor is hair-free the two of them continue to chill. Reveling in the a hundred(with ten extra credit for extra attention to detail)they'd gotten on their project. That reminded Bev of some writing homework she had. 

Pulling it out and showing it to Stan. "I'm barely passing that class. Like on the edge of a sixty-nine."  
"What have you guys been working on?" He asked. Scooting closer to see. There's a bright red '65' on the top of the page. "Well, it was the test from last week. Most of the class failed so we were given them back to use as study guides. We're having a quiz on this shit again on Monday and I keep getting this one wrong." She pointed to the page. "Name this form of sentencing," Stan read. "The unforgettable boy was forgotten easily." Bev had marked 'A' for the answer. 

"You chose onomatopoeia," Stan said to her. Bev groaned. "Because that's what I thought it was." 

"It's an oxymoron, moron."

"Okay, genius, then what's an onomatopoeia?" Stan turned to her with a huff. The bed bounced under them. "It's the literary version of"-Bang!  
—-  
The door slammed open. The noise sent a jolt through the room. Stan looked up from his place on Bill's bed. It was well into the night, eighth-thirty. Stan had left Bevs and headed for his dorm, packing up pajamas for the night and heading back to Richies room. Richie hadn't been there, off somewhere with Henry Bowers apparently. So it was Bill, Ben, and Stan and the three of them had taken to a game of Deadman(above ground Marco-Pollo). 

They almost knocked over Richies lamp when Stan had hopped up onto the bed to avoid Bens wandering hands. The lamp almost broke, Stan got tagged anyway, and the three of them laughed hysterically for almost an hour. They'd calmed down now, Stan and Bill leaned over Bens's shoulder while he played Mario on his game boy. The door swung open and Richie is in the doorway. He walks in and then another Richie walks in. It was trippy at first. Stan had nearly forgotten what Richies mutation was.  
"H-hey Richie." Bill greeted without looking up, unbothered by the loud noise. "Hiya Billy. Haystack!" He rejoiced. Richie-one went up and ruffled Bens's hair. Pushing Stan back a little bit to fit in beside him. "Excuse me." Stan tried, hitting Richie over the head. "Jokes on you, asshat, that's the clone," Richie-two says from behind them. Stan turned around and saw that Richie was in the middle of changing. 

His glasses set down on the counter as he undressed. Stan rolled his eyes. "You're insufferable, Richard." Richie turned towards Stan and smiled. He looked really tired. "Thanks, Stan, I sort of knew that already, though." Not knowing what to say next, Stan returned his attention back to Bens game boy. He had passed it to Bill, now, however. Bill thought maybe he could do it. 

"You have to"-"I kn-know what to d-do, B-Ben," Bill says this as he died. The losing screen mocked him. "Sure about that?" Stan teased. Ben snickered, taking the game boy back. Richie one disappeared, the real boy coming over and taking a place on the bed. His mind seemed asleep as he stared blankly at the wall. Seeing Richie like that made Stan really uncomfortable for some reason. 

"Hey." Stan caught Richies attention. "Look alive." Richies dark brown eyes turned up towards Stan. "You look like a kicked puppy."  
"Kinky."  
"How is that--? Ew." Richie laughed and rolled over, now facing the other direction. "Seriously, what's wrong." You're the one person in the world that never gets sad. "Oh, who cares. It doesn't matter." Ben made a noise that let Stan know he had just lost again. "Is it like something to do with Henry Bowers?" Richie shifted again, looking back at the boy whose hair was straight but fought to be curly. "You won't guess it."  
"Those are fighting words," Stan argued. 

Richie raised an eyebrow. "Patrick Hockstetter?"  
"No."  
"School?"  
"No."  
"Barry Frommath?  
"Who?"  
"The guy that kicked your ass last month, or whenever that was." Richie sat up, his mouth was ajar. "Are you telling me that Barry from maths actual name is Barry Frommath?" He grinned but didn't laugh. "That's comedy gold." Stan smiled too. "But, still no."  
"Is it one of your friends."  
"Technically, no."  
"Technically?"  
"Stan, I really don't want to talk about this." Richie insisted. "You can talk about your problems, or whatever, man," Stan said. "Holding it in never helps."-"You sound like a fucking fairy, Stan." Richie reamed. His voice was aggressive in a way not far off from Henry Bowers. 

Bill and Ben stop playing their game to turn towards Richie who was red in the face. From their view, Stan hadn't even flinched. Other than knitting his eyebrows closely together. "I'm not gay," Says Stan firmly. He was just stating a fact. "And it's not like there's anything wrong with that anyway..." His voice traveled up, up, up. Quietly towards the pool in his mind, swimming till it broke the water surface and he could see Stephen and Lucas playing battleships in their dorm room. 

Richie opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. "You look upset, Richie," Ben observes. "I'm not!" Richie replied. "Is it ab-b-bout b-b-b"-"Shut up Bill!" He said hastily. Stan was almost convinced Richie was telepathic, watching the way he spoke to Bill with his eyes. "B-b-b?" Stan repeated. Ben, Bill, "Bev?"  
"No."  
"Y-yes."  
"I will fucking end you, Denbrough." Richie didn't sound like he was joking. 

Bill wasn't bothered by the tone of voice. "You don't have a crush on her, do you?" Stan questioned. Richie grimaced, "Ew, no." The weight of the bed shifted as Ben got more comfortable. "Ew?" Ben repeated. Richie turned to him, "Well, not ew but..." He thought over his words. "Like, I'd rather die than date her," Richie added. Stan scoffed, "More like she'd rather die than date you." Ben laughed from beside him. 

"Th-that's wh-why h-he's upset," Bill told. "No, I'm upset because she won't talk to me." Richie corrected. Stan started to ask another question but Richies voice climbed over his. "But I don't want to talk about it." Stan wanted to push but he also didn't want to make Richie uncomfortable. He sighed and put his hands up in defeat. "You win, Tozier," Stan announced. "We won't talk about your mega crush on Bev." He continued with a sly smile. 

Richie fought a laugh and lost. "The only person with a mega crush is your mom on me." Richie winked. "Ha, ha. Sorry, Tozier, but I don't think you're my moms' type." The building shook as Hall Monitors walked the hall yelling about dinner. "Oh really? What is her type then?" The boys scrambled to get their shoes on. Stan was the last one out behind Richie. They bled into the crowd. "Anyone that doesn't look like they crawled out of a sewage drain."

For some odd reason, Richie didn't want to eat in the cafeteria.

He was very adamant about it, too. Claiming that some girl kept staring at him and making him uncomfortable. "You could just ask her to stop," Ben suggested as they sat in a circle in the lounge. It was too cold to go outside for lunch. The lounge was a nice place to eat in its own right. Just a little crowded because who wouldn't want to eat on a couch? All the cushions were taken so they were forced to the cold, hard, floor. 

"That's like asking a stalker to stop stalking you." Richie defended. Ben looked at him innocently, "That's what I'd do..." Stan offered Ben a smile. "Well...no. I will not ask her to stop. If she wants to stare than let her. Who doesn't want a little eye candy? Girls go crazy over this." He pointed to his outfit. A lime green sweater with a sleeveless flannel over it. He looked like shit. "You look like shit." Stan voiced flatly. Richie huffed.

"And if it really doesn't bother you then go eat in the lunchroom." Stan shook up his water bottle. He had bought a few of those kool-aid packets in the lunchroom. Five to get him through the week. Richie raised an eyebrow, "Only if you come with me." Stan took a bite of his food. There was no way that was happening and Richie seemed to know that. "O-on th-th-the topic of g-girls," Bill spoke. "B-Ben has a cr-crush on M-Max." All eyes turn to Ben who's cheeks were cherry red.  
"Mayfield? From drama?" Bill nodded at Richies question. When he got his confirmation he turned back to Ben and shook his shoulders. "Haystack you little lady killer!"

"I said I had a crush on a redhead," Ben corrected. "Never said it was Max."  
"Well, it has to be! I see the way you're always following her around at Drama practice!" Richie teased. "You're in Drama club?" Stan asked. Trashmouth gave a half-grin, "Not really. Me and Mrs. Luther have a love-hate relationship." Apparently, Richie had signed up to be in Drama three years in a row. Each time he got cast, rehearsed, made it about two weeks before the show, and then got kicked out for something stupid. 

This happened repeatedly up until this year when Mrs. Luther told him he was banned from Drama until his senior year. Hoping that maybe he'd have gained some maturity by then. He still watched rehearsals, as it's a good past time and he takes the Drama class in the afternoon so it wasn't like he was exiled from the stage altogether. "Damn," Stan commented after Richies story finished. "Yeah, but anyway. What other redheads are there? Except for little orphan Annie and Bev. And you can't have a crush on Bev." Richie stated. "Why not?" Ben asked, his eyebrows drawn in. 

"Because Bill has a crush on Bev." Stan turned to Bill. "Do you actually?" Bill went to answer but just ended up smiling. It's answer enough. A silence fell over them momentarily. Richie fills it by asking Stan if he was crushing on anyone. "Will you call me a fairy if I say I've never had a crush before?" Stan asked seriously. Richie smiles, "Hey you said it, not me." Stan rolled his eyes. 

"I'm joking, don't have a fucking seizure. That's okay, I guess. Better than Bill here, he has a crush on every girl that breaths." Bill objected to this. Claiming, through his stutter, that he'd only had six crushes since seventh grade and dated four of them. "M-Myra, M-M-May, Alyssa, D-Dasia, Br-Brooke, and J-Janelle." Bens' eyes went wide. "Janelle like Janelle Diamond? One of the eighth-graders who went missing over the weekend?" Bill nodded, looking down. "Th-that's why I th-think that those k-kids just r-ran away like M-Mike s-said. Janelle hated it h-here. Alw-w-ways talked ab-b-bout sneaking off." Then Bill expressed that the Eleventh-Grader was Javier Diamond. Janelles' older brother who not only hated this school but Bill as well. "H-he's the r-reason m-m-me and Jan-n-nelle n-never d-dated." Stan didn't know what to say.

The topic of the Runaways was a heavy one. It weighed over the week, holding Stan's head down as he walked past missing posters. Kids that have a fifty-fifty chance of being dead, or alive and both options are fucking morbid because it's almost November and they're somewhere lost in the labyrinth of New York. That's why their names were whispered when it was brought up. Who wants to talk about dead kids? The night continued, soon it's eleven o'clock and a hall monitor is warning them to turn the light off and go to bed or get written up. Ben and Richie were recounting a funny story that happened in class on one of the days Bill had been absent and the laughing had got so loud that a hall monitor stopped by to complain. 

As she left, Stan turned to Richie and said; "How come no one ever wrote you up for playing your music?" to which Richie replies with: "They think I'm Patrick Hockstetters brother." And Stan wants to go on but ends up pussing out because he didn't want to be the one who ruined the night's vibe. It died down at three am. The latest Stan had stayed up in ages. Bill clocked out first. The final three were condensed to counting beer on the wall, starting at a hundred. They make it to thirty before Stan realizes Ben hasn't been counting for a long time. "Haystack is asleep." Richie smiles. Ben was on Richies bed, Bill was on his own bed. 

Stan didn't mind the floor and Richie had hopped down beside him to keep him company. Soft light feathered across Richies face. It was still very dark but Stan could just make out the hint of a grin. "We should prank him." He continued. Stan vetoed that. "Why not?"  
"Because it's mean."  
"He's my friend!"  
"Just because he's your friend, doesn't mean you can't be an asshole to him, moron."  
Richie just laughed. Quietly, softly, considerate of the sleeping boys above them. 

Stan sighed. Whatever this was, it was nice. Richie suddenly got very still and very quiet. For a moment, Stan had thought he was asleep. From all appearances, he was. So Stan rolled up towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. The day replayed in his mind. Right up to the detail of Mike accepting his apology days earlier just for him to still be ignoring him now. And that thought makes Stan really mad.

"I didn't like Bev." Richie suddenly says, catching Stan's attention. "I never liked her. Not like that at least. She's really pretty or whatever just...don't think I could ever have a crush on her." Stan listened and nodded. "Then what happened with you two?" Richie was silent for a moment. Shepherding his words, combing through them gently so as not to make a noise, but firm, still, to make sure they were in a line. What happened was this; Beverly came to Richie one day to confront him about a note he had left for her. The problem was Richie never wrote no note(in his own words). 

He only said he had because he thought Bev was joking. He had never seen Bev be serious about something in his whole month of knowing her, how was he supposed to detect it in the moment? So Richie said hell yeah he wrote that note to keep the joke rolling. "Stanley, it was a love note," Richie said when Stan claimed to not understand how that would ruin a friendship. "Oh." is all he said now. "Yeah, oh. Someone wrote Bev a fucking love note and she thought it was me of all people. So I try to take it back and tell her I didn't write it but it came out all weird and suddenly she's halfway down the hall and I'm on room-arrest so the only thing I can do is watch her walk off with my tail behind my legs." And Stan says 'oh' again because his brain was loading and he needed time to process. "So it was a misunderstanding and Bev despises you for no reason?" He recapped. 

Richie just shrugged. "Would you do something for me?" He asked.  
"I'm not pranking Ben."  
"Not that, asshole." Richie lifted himself off the ground and went over to his desk. The dorm had surprised Stan at first. It wasn't impeccably clean but the only place that was a real disaster was the desk. Where Richie is now shuffling through the mess to find something. "I kept trying to tell Bev that I didn't write the note but that wasn't working." He recalled just as he found what he was looking for. 

A little note by the look of it. "But then I realized that maybe I could show her." He held it out towards Stan. He took it and looked at it in his hands. It was too dark to read. "You can read it if you want. It's not like it's Russia's plan to nuke the planet. Just get it to Bev, okay?" Richie instructed. 

"I never had a crush on her but damn it if she isn't one of the chillest people I've ever met." And Stan hears the grin in Richies voice as he says this. "Yeah, okay. I'll give it to her tomorrow or something."   
"Thanks, Staniel."  
"No problem, Richard."  
"Please, Richard was my fathers' name. Call me Dick."  
"Go to bed."  
—-  
Stan is in his dorm now. It's the middle of the afternoon on Sunday and Stan has hardly moved since coming home after breakfast. He found himself so unbelievably tired. He never made it bed, him and Richies nonsensical conversation waking poor Bill up. Then he was up and moving towards the cafeteria. From the cafeteria, he went straight to his dorm. Covering himself up and falling asleep. 

He thought at first that it was simply because he'd been an idiot and pulled an all-nighter. But now it was three o'clock, he'd gotten seven hours in and he still couldn't move. Stan lies in bed for the next hour or so. He just felt so heavy. Like the entire world was weighted on his stomach. It hurt to breathe and he found himself racked with some inconsolable urge to cry. So he cries for the next thirty minutes and then spends another thirty minutes feeling like shit. 

He's up now, looking in the mirror as he wipes off his tears. He's calling himself stupid. Over and over again. "What's your fucking problem?" He asked the mirror. There is no response. "You're such a pussy. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid." Stan wishes he could say this is the first time he's felt like this. Mike would be proud of him, as he hasn't had a bad day like this since August. 

At the thought of Mike, the deep emptiness Stan felt in his stomach filled with something red and hot. Yes, pat on the back Stan. You're doing so well, but also? I just couldn't give a fuck. Yeah, you apologized but for some odd reason, I'm gonna drag it out. I'm gonna make you look stupid. I'm gonna look you in the eye and tell you to go fucking kill yourself because we both know that's what you really want to do anyway. 

"Shut up!" Stan shouts out loud. The door behind him opens slowly. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he turned around to face Mike who had a very haunted look on his face. Warm tone skin suddenly looked cold. Stan realizes, tiredly, that Mike had just heard everything. He also realized he didn't give a fuck. "Are you okay?" Mike asked timidly. 

And Stan rolled his eyes and said; "Do I fucking look okay?" Because he had already fucked things up beyond repair so why not twist the knife a little more? "You don't have to be an asshole, man, I was just checking up on you." Stan slid past his roommate and wandered into the room. For the first time since moving in together; it was a mess. "I'm not being an asshole, Michael, just stating a fact." Stan's hands shook as he reached down to pick up his jacket he flung onto the ground absentmindedly. "Because I'm obviously not okay and you asked anyway. Wasted my time, wasted yours." Richie and Bills' room was cleaner than theirs. Mike saw Stan cleaning and began to do the same, going over to his own unmade bed to straighten up. "Alright, well I'm not fighting with you. If you want to be mad, then go ahead." Stan fought with the closet, it was a tangled mess.

"Where were you last night?" Mike asked.  
"Why? You weren't worried were you?" Stan mocked him. "Actually I was," Mike said, not catching onto Stan's sarcastic words. "The bathroom light was on so I thought you were in there but by the time I realized you weren't, it was ten o'clock and I couldn't get a hold of a hall monitor." Mike moved to fix Stan's bed but Stan cut him off, doing it himself. He let out a long sigh, "I was up half the night wondering where you were." Stan pulled up the sheet and then the comforter. "Well if you must know. I was at a sleepover."

"A sleepover?"  
Stan gulped, "Yeah, a sleepover. With Richie and Bill and Ben." He offered Mike a side glance. "And Eddie."  
"Eddie was there?"  
"Yeah, everyone was. Did Richie not invite you?" He stood up to face Mike, who opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again. The fire in Stan's stomach raged on.


	16. End note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My final thoughts.

This is the end :( when I say that I love this story and the atmosphere it gives off? That's one of the things I did right and I'll always stand by that. I always wanted it to feel like everyone was taking things too seriously and if Bev or Stan or anyone else in the story took a step back, they'd be able to see things for how they truly were. These are all things I like about this story but then comes the places where I fell short. I packed in too many details and it was a chore to keep up with them all. 

This was coupled with the fact that I didn't even really have a skeleton for the story and my first drafts were pretty laughable. Planning is not my strong suit and it kicked me in the ass here. I wish I could've portrayed Bev's slut-shaming more in-depth. I tried to but it was still a really weak part of her story. And there are weak story points riddled throughout here. The fact that these teachers have very little appearances in a boarding school is a ridiculous, school itself was a weak point for the story. 

School trips were never fully explored, either. I also might as well have gotten rid of the Mutant aspect entirely for how little it shows up. My world-building skills have plenty, PLENTY, of room for improvement. Where world building was weak, I tried to make up for in characters. Beverly and Ben instantly connecting was a bit unrealistic but their friendship does evolve. I did a good job of handling them, how they still find time to hang out by themselves despite more people joining their little group. 

Stan and Mikes storyline was interesting, too. The last chapter was a cliff hanger too, jeez. You'll never know how they're bullshit was finally resolved :(. That being said, I think Stan and Richie sometimes go out of character? Going back and reading some of Stans dialogue makes me cringe because of how much he says 'man'. I feel like he wouldn't say that. 

And Richie using self-deprecating humor? More like your mom. Richie wouldn't use deprecating humor because that makes the mood uncomfortable and that's the number one thing he wants to avoid. This story, however unfinished, was not without passion. I hope that shows when you realize it was supposed to be 7 parts, was only 2, and still managed to be 60,000+ words. I'd love to revisit this one day, probably in a different fandom, and much, much simpler. 

Thank you all for reading and I hope you were able to take away something from it :(. 

Happy reading, find an author that finishes their stories lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you'd like! It seriously brightens my day. Much love and read on!


End file.
